"Monsieur," said Napoleon severely, "you are a young officer, although you wear the insignia of a Colonel. Know that I am not accustomed to have my commands questioned by anyone. You will return to Marshal Marmont at once. Exchange your tired horse for one of my own. I still have a fresh one, I believe. And spare him not. Tell the Duc de Ragusa that he must advance at all hazards. Advance with the guns if he can, if not then without them. Stay, as for the guns—— Where is the Mayor of the town?"
"Here, Sire," answered a plain, simple man in civilian's dress standing near.
"Are there any horses left in the countryside, monsieur?"
"Many, your Majesty, wherever the Russians have not passed."
"I thought so. Gentlemen," the Emperor turned to his staff, "ride in every direction. Take the mounted escort. Bid them scatter. Go to every village and farm. Ask my good French people to bring their horses in, to lend them to the Emperor. It is for France. I strike the last blow for them, their homes, their wives and children. Fortune smiles upon us. The enemy is delivered into our hands. They shall be liberally rewarded."
"The men are hungry," cried a voice from a dark group of officers in the background.
"They are weary," exclaimed another, under cover of the darkness.
"Who spoke?" asked the Emperor, but he did not wait for an answer, perhaps he did not care for one. "I, too, am hungry, I, your Emperor, and I am weary. I have eaten nothing and have ridden the day long. There is bread, there are guns in the Field-Marshal's army. We shall take from Blücher all that we need. Then we can rest. You hear?"
"We hear, Sire."
"Good. Whose division is yonder?"