December 4, Sunday.—General Alton calls, and we ride with him to Bahel Fuenta via Villa Ruella.
Set out on return journey, not knowing the road. The guide says he is sure that the wrong road is the right one. We take the wrong, and wander a long, long time in a heavy impenetrable fog, not seeing three feet before us. At length we shoot into a flock of sheep, and I, thinking there must be a shepherd, begin to whistle as hard as I can; and soon, to my great joy, I behold three upright forms advancing towards me, and make one of them put us on the right road for Pitiegua. We had gone more than our distance, and were still five miles off.
December 6.—Take a walk with the curate. He asks me about my birth, parentage, and education, and finding I had a mother, he says, “Ah, how often does she say to herself, ‘Oh, if he should be dead, my dear child!’” This throws me into the blue devils.
December 7.—Yesterday General Alton intercepted the imperial mail from Burgos to Madrid. It was carried by a Spanish courier, and guarded by two French officers and a French courier. The party was attacked by about twenty peasants a few leagues from Burgos. One French officer and the French courier were killed. The other Frenchman made his escape, and the Spanish courier set off full speed for the English outposts. The mail had many letters for Napoleon and his dukes and nobles.
To-day we set out for Tarazona, but on meeting some people from Cantalapiedra, they tell us such a parcel of stuff that we determine to go there.
We reach Cantalapiedra, five leagues off, and ask for news. A priest, coming up, asks, “Do they seek for news here?” “Yes.” “Oh,” he says, “the Emperor of Russia has sent his ambassador to Buonaparte to Madrid, to say that unless he desists from his projects against Spain, the Muscovite will declare against him.”
The Marquis Goraze is here in retirement. He is the intendente of Burgos, and made his escape. The people point to an equipage just arriving. ’Tis the Marchioness, drawn in a dung-cart, her daughters and women preceding her on donkeys, and the Marquis himself bringing up the rear.
After a most beautiful sunbright day and clear night there advances suddenly from the north (between Pedroso and Pitiegua) an overwhelming cloud resting on the earth. I kept before it some time, and could see far before me (though it was night), but behind me not an inch, till at last, meeting a man and talking with him a moment, it got ahead, and I found myself in the thickest pudding of a night, and was obliged to grope my way to Pitiegua.
December 8.—Stay indoors and determine on what to be done.
December 9–11.—Ride north, reconnoitre, make maps and plans.