“Is this the officer from Holitsch?” said the aide-decamp of the Emperor, coming hurriedly forward. “The despatch, sir!” cried he; and the next moment hastened to the little hut which Napoleon occupied as his bivouac.
The only other person in the open space where I stood was an officer of the lancers, whose splashed and travel-stained dress seemed to say he had been employed like myself.
“I fancy, Monsieur,” said he, bowing, “that you have had a sharp ride also this morning. I have just arrived from Göding—four leagues—in less than an hour; and with all that, too late, I believe, to remedy what has occurred.”
“What, then, has happened?”
“Davoust has been tricked into an armistice, and suffered the Russians to pass the bridge. The Emperor Alexander has taken advantage of the negotiations with Austria, and got his army clear through; so, at least, it would seem. I saw Napoleon tear the despatch into fragments, and stamp his foot upon them. But here he comes.”
The words were scarcely spoken when the Emperor came rapidly up, followed by his staff. He wore a gray surtout, trimmed with dark fur, and had his hands clasped within the cuffs of the coat. His face was pale as death, and save a slight contraction of his brows, there was nothing to show any appearance of displeasure.
“Who brought the despatch from Göding?”
“I did, Sire,” said the officer.
“How are the roads, sir?”
“Much cut up, and in one place a torrent has carried away part of a bridge.”