Once more the Grand Army was set in motion, and the hosts of France pressed upon Russia from the south and west.  Napoleon turned the enemy’s right flank, and compelled him to retire and concentrate his troops around Jena, which was plainly to be the scene of a great battle.

My regiment was ordered on September 13, 1806, to proceed without delay to the emperor’s headquarters at Jena, and I was sent ahead to make arrangements for quarters.  In the darkness I lost my way, and came upon an artillery battery stuck fast in a ravine, unable to move back or forwards.  The colonel was in despair, for the whole artillery of the division was following him, and would inevitably be involved in the same mishap.  Wild shouting had been succeeded by a sullen silence, when a stern voice called out:  “Cannoniers, dismount; bring the torches to the front!”

When the order was obeyed, the light of the firewood fell upon the features of Napoleon himself.  Instantly the work began afresh, directed by the emperor with a blazing torch in his hand.  Gradually the gun-carriages were released, and began to move slowly along the ravine.  Napoleon turned, and rode off at full speed in the darkness towards Jena.  It was my destination, and I followed him.

He preceded me by about fifty paces—­the greatest monarch of the world, alone, his thoughts bent on the great events before him.  On the top of an ascent the brilliant spectacle of a thousand watch-fires met the eye.  Napoleon, lost in meditation, saw nothing, and rode straight into the lines.  Twice the challenge “Qui vive?" rang out.  Napoleon heard it not.  There was a bang of a musket, then another, and another.  Napoleon threw himself from his horse, and lay flat on the ground.  I dashed up, shouting, “The emperor!  The emperor!” My horse was killed, and I was wounded in the shoulder; but I repeated the cry until Napoleon stepped calmly forward.

“Ye are well upon the alert, mes enfants,” he said, smiling.  Then, turning to me, he asked quickly, “Are you wounded?”

“A mere scratch, sire.”

“Let the surgeon see to it, and do you come to headquarters when you are able.”

In the morning I went to headquarters, but the emperor was busy; seemingly I was forgotten.  My regiment was out of reach, so, at the invitation of my old duelling antagonist, Francois, I joined the Voltigeurs.  My friends could not understand why, after tasting the delights of infantry fighting, I should wish to rejoin the hussars; but I went back to my old regiment after the victory, and rode with it to Berlin.

Soon after our arrival there I read my name in a general order among those on whom the Cross of the Legion was to be conferred.  On the morning of the day when I was to receive the decoration, I was requested to attend the bureau of the adjutant-general.  There I was confronted with Marshal Berthier, who held up a letter before me.  I saw, by the handwriting, it was Duchesne’s.