And the prince rode with his adjutants down to his headquarters at Kapellendorf, to go to bed and sleep. An hour later, profound silence reigned in the Prussian camp near Jena. The soldiers were sleeping, and so was their general.
And profound silence reigned also in the Prussian camp at Auerstadt. The king had held a council of war late in the evening, and conferred with the Duke of Brunswick, Field-Marshal von Mullendorf, and the other generals about the operations of the following day. The result of this consultation had been that nobody believed in the possibility of a battle on the following day; and hence, it had been decided that the army was quietly to advance, follow the enemy, who seemed to retreat, and prevent him from crossing the Saale.
The council of war had then adjourned, and the Duke of Brunswick hastened to his quarters, in order, like the Prince von Hohenlohe, to go to bed and sleep.
An hour lafer, profound silence reigned also in the Prussian camp at Auerstadt. The Duke of Brunswick slept, and so did his soldiers.
The king alone was awake.
With a heavy heart and a gloomy face, he was walking up and down in his tent. He felt indescribably lonesome, for his wife was no longer with him. Yielding, with bitter tears, to the supplications of her husband, she had left the camp to-day and gone toward Naumburg.
The king had implored her to go, but his heart was heavy; and when he at last, late at night, repaired to his couch, slumber kept aloof from his eyes.
At the same time, while the Prussian army and its generals were sleeping, a wondrous scene took place not far from them, and a singular procession moved across the fields at no great distance from Jena.
Silence, darkness, and fog reigned all around. But suddenly the fog parted, and two torch-bearers, with grave faces, appeared accompanying a man clad in a green overcoat, with white facings, with a small three-cornered hat on his head, and mounted on a white horse. The blaze of the torches illuminated his pale face; his eyes were as keen as those of an eagle, and seemed to command the fog to disappear, so that he might see what it was concealing from him. At his side, whenever the torches blazed up, two other horsemen, in brilliant uniforms, were to be seen; but their eyes did not try to pierce the fog, but to fathom the face of the proud man at their side; their eyes were fixed on him, on his pale face, on which, even at this hour of the night, the sun of Austerlitz was shedding his golden rays.
While the Prussian army and its generals were sleeping, Napoleon was awake and was arranging the plans for the impending battle. The postmaster of Jena and General Denzel were his torch-bearers; Marshal Lannes and Marshal Soult were his companions.