“Our rearguard is in full retreat,” cried the major. “There is no hope left!”
“I have spared your traveling carriage, Philip,” said a friendly voice.
Sucy turned and saw the young aide-de-camp by the light of the flames.
“Oh, it is all over with us,” he answered. “They have eaten my horse. And how am I to make this sleepy general and his wife stir a step?”
“Take a brand, Philip, and threaten them.”
“Threaten the Countess?...”
“Good-bye,” cried the aide-de-camp; “I have only just time to get across that unlucky river, and go I must, there is my mother in France!... What a night! This herd of wretches would rather lie here in the snow, and most of them would sooner be burned alive than get up.... It is four o’clock, Philip! In two hours the Russians will begin to move, and you will see the Beresina covered with corpses a second time, I can tell you. You haven’t a horse, and you cannot carry the Countess, so come along with me,” he went on, taking his friend by the arm.
“My dear fellow, how am I to leave Stephanie?”
Major de Sucy grasped the Countess, set her on her feet, and shook her roughly; he was in despair. He compelled her to wake, and she stared at him with dull fixed eyes.
“Stephanie, we must go, or we shall die here!”