[26] Sergeant-vélite in the same regiment as myself, the Fusilier-Grenadiers.—Author's Note.
A DISTURBED NIGHT—I FIND MY FRIENDS AGAIN—WE LEAVE SMOLENSK—A NECESSARY CORRECTION—THE BATTLE OF KRASNOË—MELLÉ THE DRAGOON.
My guide disappeared suddenly, and I was at a total loss as to my whereabouts. I was only sorry now that I had ever left the regiment. However, I had to go in one direction or another, and, as the snow had stopped falling, I began to search for my footmarks. And then I remembered that I must keep the rampart on my right hand. After walking for some minutes, I seemed to recognise the place where I met the Baden soldier; but, to make quite sure, I marked two deep crosses in the snow with the butt-end of my musket, before going further.
It was now about midnight, and more than an hour since I had fallen into the cellar, and during that time the cold had increased terribly. I saw a great many fires on my left, but dared not go in that direction for fear of falling into holes that the snow had hidden. I walked on, feeling my way with my head down, looking out for safe places for my feet. I now saw that the road sloped downwards, and further on I found it was almost blocked up by gun-carriages, intended no doubt for the rampart. When I had arrived at the bottom, it was so fearfully dark that I lost all idea of direction, and I was obliged to sit down on a gun-carriage to rest, and try to think which way I ought to take.
In this dreadful predicament, as I sat with my head buried in my hands, I was dropping off into a sleep from which I should not have awakened, when I heard some extraordinary sounds. I got up, terrified to think of the danger I had just escaped. I listened with all my ears, but heard nothing more. So I think I must have been dreaming, or perhaps it was a warning from Heaven to save me. So taking fresh courage, I began to walk again, feeling my way, and striding over the numbers of obstacles in the road.
At last I left all the obstacles behind me, after nearly breaking my leg several times, and I rested a moment to take breath and get strength enough to climb a hill in front of me. Then I heard the same sounds which had awakened me before, but this time I recognised them for music. I heard the slow, prolonged notes of an organ some distance off: they produced an indescribable impression on me, alone as I was at such a place, and at such an hour. I set out, quickening my pace, in the direction of the sounds—up the steep ascent. When I got to the top, I took a few steps, and then stopped—just in time! another step, and I should have been done for—I should have fallen from top to bottom of the rampart, more than fifty feet, on to the banks of the Boristhène. Horrified at my narrow escape, I drew back a few steps, and stopped to listen, but I did not hear the sound again. I began walking once more, and, turning to the left, fortunately found the beaten track. Slowly and cautiously I advanced, holding my head well up, my ears open for any sound, and at last I made up my mind the music had been an hallucination. In our present dreadful circumstances, how could such music have been possible—and, above all, at such an hour?
Reflecting as I walked, my right foot, which already was half frozen, and giving me some pain, struck against something hard. I cried out with the pain, and fell all my length over a dead body, its face touching mine, then raised myself with great difficulty, and saw that it was the body of a dragoon, his helmet still strapped on, and his cloak, on which he had fallen. He had probably not been there long.