"This is better luck than I looked for, comrade," he said as they cooked the food they had found in the village, filled their pipes, and sat down by a blazing fire. "Peste! I was frightened as we crossed the river last night. We knew the ice was not strong, and if it had given way as we crossed, not a man upon it would have reached the other side. However, it turned out for the best, and here we are again, and I believe that we shall somehow get through after all. Ney always has good luck. There is never any hesitation about him. He sees what has to be done and does it. That is the sort of man for a leader. I would rather serve under a man who does what he thinks best at once, even if it turns out wrong, than one who hesitates and wants time to consider. Ney has been called 'the child of victory,' and I believe in his star. Anyone else would have surrendered after that fight yesterday, and yet you see how he has got out of the scrape so far. I believe that Ney will cross the frontier safe, even if he carries with him only a corporal's guard."
Julian was too exhausted to talk, and every moment of rest was precious. Therefore, after smoking for a short time, he lay down to sleep. At daybreak the next morning the march through the forest continued. When from time to time they approached its edge, the Cossacks could be seen hovering thickly on the plain; but they dared not venture into the wood, which was so close that their horses would be worse than useless to them. At three o'clock, when within twenty miles of Orsza, two Polish officers volunteered to push ahead to that town on some peasant's horses that had been brought from the village where they had slept to acquaint the commander of any French force that might be there with their situation, and to pray for assistance. After a halt of an hour the column pushed on again. When they had marched another twelve miles the forest ceased. Night had long since fallen, and a thick fog hung over the ground. This served to hide their movements, but rendered it difficult in the extreme for them to maintain the right direction.
Their way led over a steep hill, which was climbed with great difficulty by the exhausted troops; but on reaching the summit they saw to their horror a long line of bivouac fires illuminating the plain in front of them. Even the most sanguine felt despair for a moment. Ney himself stood for a few minutes speechless, then he turned to his men.
"There is but one thing to do, comrades," he said. "It is death to stay here. Better a thousand times meet it as soldiers. Let us advance in absolute silence, and then rush upon our enemies and strive to burst our way through. They cannot know that we are so near, and, aided by the surprise, we may force a passage. If we fail, we will, before we die, sell our lives so dearly that our enemies will long bear us in remembrance."
In silence the column marched down the hill. No sound proclaimed that the enemy had taken the alarm. When within charging distance, the line levelled its bayonets and rushed forward to the fires. To their stupefaction and relief, they found no foe to oppose them. The fires had been lighted by order of the Cossack general to make them believe that an army lay between them and Orsza, and so cause them to arrest their march. Half an hour was given to the men to warm themselves by the fires, then the march was resumed. Three miles further the sound of a large body of men was heard, then came a challenge in French, "Qui vive!" A hoarse shout of delight burst from the weary force, and a minute later they were shaking hands with their comrades of Davoust's division. The Polish messengers had, in spite of the numerous Cossacks on the plains, succeeded in reaching Orsza safely. The most poignant anxiety reigned there as to the safety of Ney's command; and Davoust, on hearing the welcome news, instantly called his men under arms and advanced to meet them.
The delight on both sides was extreme, and Ney's soldiers were supplied with food that Davoust had ordered his men to put in their haversacks. A halt of three or four hours was ordered, for the column had been marching for eighteen hours, and could go no further. At daybreak they completed the remaining eight miles into Orsza. Napoleon himself was there. Here they rested for five days. Food was abundant, and arms were distributed to those who needed them. Ammunition was served out, and Napoleon employed himself with great energy in reorganizing his forces and in distributing the stragglers,—who were almost as numerous as those with the standards,—among them. Ney's corps was now too small for separate service, and henceforth was united to that of Davoust. The halt did wonders for the men. They were billeted among the houses of the town, and warmth and abundant food revived their strength. They looked forward with some confidence to reaching the spot where great magazines had been prepared, and where they would take up their quarters until the campaign recommenced in the spring.
Napoleon's plans, however, were all frustrated by the inconceivable blunders and follies of the generals, to whom were entrusted the task of carrying them out. Everywhere, in turn, they suffered themselves to be deceived and caught napping. The important positions entrusted to them were wrested from their hands. Minsk, where there were supplies for the whole army for months, had been captured, and now Borizow, where the passage of the Berezina was to be made, was captured almost without resistance. Well might Napoleon when he heard the news exclaim in despair:
"Will there never be an end to this blundering?"
Great as the cold had been before, it increased day by day in severity. Happily for the French, Kutusow, with the main Russian army, was far in their rear, and they might well hope, when joined by Victor, who was to meet them near the Berezina with his division, to be able to defeat the two Russian armies that barred their way, either force being inferior to their own.
Stephanie had borne the march wonderfully well. Since leaving Smolensk, she had had no walking to do. The cold was so great that she was glad to remain during the day snuggled up beneath Julian's cloak. The marching songs had ceased. Hunted as they were, silence was imperative, and indeed the distances traversed and the hardships endured were so great that even Julian felt that he had no longer strength to raise his voice. Few words indeed were spoken on the march, for the bitter cold seemed to render talking almost impossible.