“Well, we got to the Beresina.  My friends, I can affirm to you by all that is most sacred, by my honor, that since mankind came into the world, never, never, was there seen such a fricassee of an army—­guns, carriages, artillery wagons—­in the midst of such snows, under such relentless skies!  The muzzles of the muskets burned our hands if we touched them, the iron was so cold.  It was there that the army was saved by the pontoniers, who were firm at their post; and there that Gondrin—­sole survivor of the men who were bold enough to go into the water and build the bridges by which the army crossed—­that Gondrin, here present, admirably conducted himself, and saved us from the Russians, who, I must tell you, still respected the grand army, remembering its victories.  And,” he added, pointing to Gondrin, who was gazing at him with the peculiar attention of a deaf man, “Gondrin is a finished soldier, a soldier who is honor itself, and he merits your highest esteem.”

“I saw the Emperor,” he resumed, “standing by the bridge, motionless, not feeling the cold—­was that human?  He looked at the destruction of his treasure, his friends, his old Egyptians.  Bah! all that passed him, women, army wagons, artillery, all were shattered, destroyed, ruined.  The bravest carried the eagles; for the eagles, d’ye see, were France, the nation, all of you! they were the civil and the military honor that must be kept pure; could their heads be lowered because of the cold?  It was only near the Emperor that we warmed ourselves, because when he was in danger we ran, frozen as we were—­we, who wouldn’t have stretched a hand to save a friend.  They told us he wept at night over his poor family of soldiers.  Ah! none but he and Frenchmen could have got themselves out of that business.

“We did get out, but with losses, great losses, as I tell you.  The Allies captured our provisions.  Men began to betray him, as the Red Man predicted.  Those chatterers in Paris, who had held their tongues after the Imperial Guard was formed, now thought he was dead; so they hoodwinked the prefect of police, and hatched a conspiracy to overthrow the empire.  He heard of it; it worried him.  He left us, saying:  ’Adieu, my children; guard the outposts; I shall return to you.’  Bah! without him nothing went right; the generals lost their heads; the marshals talked nonsense and committed follies; but that was not surprising, for Napoleon, who was kind, had fed ’em on gold; they had got as fat as lard, and wouldn’t stir; some stayed in camp when they ought to have been warming the backs of the enemy who was between us and France.

“But the Emperor came back, and he brought recruits, famous recruits; he changed their backbone and made ’em dogs of war, fit to set their teeth into anything; and he brought a guard of honor, a fine body indeed!—­all bourgeois, who melted away like butter on a gridiron.