"The papers came from Kutusoff," said I. "They are of the greatest importance, and possibly the Russian plan of campaign is among them. Certainly the Emperor should know of this; we must make it our business to go to him immediately. If the woman has burned the documents, at least she will have read them. We must make her speak at head-quarters."
He agreed with me, but declared that she was in no fit state to tell a story.
"I know the kind," he said. "Her anger is like a tempest, and will pass as quickly. Then she will regret what she has done. Let us go to head-quarters and report. It will be for them to act in the matter."
I thought this wise at the time, and did not hesitate to set off with him. It was evident that the Russians had prepared some great plan of campaign the moment our retreat was known, and the importance of this to the general staff could not be exaggerated. It was amazing to think that a mere child amidst us had knowledge which might save the lives of thousands of men, and that the papers which contained it were but so many ashes upon the pavement before us. None the less, we might yet compel her to speak, and with this in our minds we quitted the building and made our way as best we could to the guest house at which the Emperor was staying.
This was no light task, for the snow was often up to our knees, and the dead were everywhere.
It had been a terrible night, and the army had paid a bitter price for the ruin it had inflicted upon Slawkowo on the outward journey. We could not help but reflect how many thousands might have been saved in those houses we had burned, how many might have been fed by that food we had so wantonly destroyed in the days of our abundance. This day there was not a loaf of bread in all that perished town; men were eating horse at every bivouac. The night, for those who lived, had been an orgy amid the cellars, when men raved and died in their drunkenness, and those who perished from starvation had nothing but brandy for their lips.
All this was reflected in that scene at dawn.
Day broke with a wan, grey light and a powder of snow which burned the skin like hot needles. We found the great street of the town still blocked by the wagons of the transport and the guns of the Emperor's Guard. The bravest men moved like phantoms in the mist, their spirits sunk, their flesh shrunken by the cold. None of the éclat of departure was to be observed in all that throng. The road had carried us to a house of death, and no hope lay beyond it. Who shall wonder at the dejection which fell upon the once proud Grand Army?
We came up to the Emperor's tent at nine o'clock, and heard that His Majesty was just about to march. Murat and Dumesnil were with him, and I was lucky enough to catch the latter when he came out of the Emperor's room some ten minutes later. My story interested him profoundly, and we were soon ushered into His Majesty's presence. I thought he looked a little careworn, but there was no betrayal of his secret thoughts, nor did he speak a word in reference to the thousands of dead who lay buried beneath the snow in that wretched town. Indeed, his manner became almost a little aggressive when he spoke and asked me somewhat surlily what I wanted.
"Your Majesty," said I, "there is a woman in the city who has news from the Russian head-quarters. I thought you would wish to hear of her."