With the return of night also returned the apprehension, that under cover of its shades, the Russian army might escape from the field of battle.  Napoleon’s anxiety was so great as to prevent him from sleeping.  He kept calling incessantly to know the hour, inquiring if any noise was heard, and sending persons to ascertain if the enemy was still before him.  His doubts on this subject were so strong, that he had given orders that his proclamation should not be read to his troops until the next morning, and then only in case of the certainty of a battle.

Tranquillized for a few moments, anxiety of an opposite description again seized him.  He became frightened at the destitute state of the soldiers.  Weak and famished as they were, how could they support a long and terrible shock?  In this danger he looked upon his guard as his sole resource; it seemed to be his security for both armies.  He sent for Bessieres, that one of his marshals in whom he had the greatest confidence for commanding it; he wished to know if this chosen reserve wanted nothing;—­he called him back several times, and repeated his pressing questions.  He desired that these old soldiers should have three days’ biscuit and rice distributed among them from their waggons of reserve; finally, dreading that his orders had not been obeyed, he got up once more, and questioned the grenadiers on guard at the entrance of his tent, if they had received these provisions.  Satisfied by their answer, he went in, and soon fell into a doze.

Shortly after, he called once more.  His aid-de-camp found him now supporting his head with both hands; he seemed, by what was heard, to be meditating on the vanities of glory.  “What is war?  A trade of barbarians, the whole art of which consists in being the strongest on a given point!” He then complained of the fickleness of fortune, which he said, he began to experience.  Seeming to revert to more encouraging ideas, he recollected what had been told him of the tardiness and carelessness of Kutusof, and expressed his surprise that Beningsen had not been preferred to him.  He thought of the critical situation into which he had brought himself, and added, “that a great day was at hand, that there would be a terrible battle.”  He asked Rapp if he thought we should gain the victory?  “No doubt;” was the reply, “but it will be sanguinary.”  “I know it,” resumed Napoleon, “but I have 80,000 men; I shall lose 20,000, I shall enter Moscow with 60,000; the stragglers will there rejoin us, and afterwards the battalions on the march, and we shall be stronger than we were before the battle.”  In this estimate he seemed to include neither his guard nor the cavalry.

Again assailed by his first anxiety, he sent once more to examine the attitude of the Russians; he was informed that their fires burned with equal brightness, and that by the number of these, and the moving shadows surrounding them, it was supposed that it was not merely a rear-guard, but a whole army that kept feeding them.  The certainty of their presence at last quieted the emperor, and he tried to take some rest.