Ney listened:  “Is this Davoust at last,” he exclaimed, “who has recollected me?” and he listened a second time.  But there were regular intervals between the firing; it was a salvo.  Being then fully satisfied that the Russian army was triumphing by anticipation over his captivity, he swore he would give the lie to their joy, and immediately resumed his march.

At the same time his Poles ransacked the country.  A lame peasant was the only inhabitant they had discovered; this was an unlooked-for piece of good fortune.  He informed them that they were within the distance of a league from the Dnieper, but that it was not fordable there, and could not yet be frozen over.  “It will be so,” was the marshal’s remark; but when it was observed to him that the thaw had just commenced, he added “that it did not signify, we must pass, as there was no other resource.”

At last, about eight o’clock, after passing through a village, the ravine terminated, and the lame Russian, who walked first, halted and pointed to the river.  They imagined that this must have been between Syrokorenia and Gusinoe.  Ney, and those immediately behind him, ran up to it.  They found the river sufficiently frozen to bear their weight, the course of the flakes which it bore along to that point, being counteracted by a sudden turn in its banks, was there suspended; the winter had completely frozen it over only in that single spot; both above and below it, its surface was still moveable.

This observation was sufficient to make their first sensation of joy give way to uneasiness.  This hostile river might only offer them a treacherous appearance.  One officer devoted himself for the rest; he crossed to the other side with great difficulty.  He returned and reported, that the men, and perhaps some of the horses might pass over, but that the rest must be abandoned, and there was no time to lose, as the ice was beginning to give way in consequence of the thaw.

But in this nocturnal and silent march across fields, of a column composed of weakened and wounded men, and women with their children, they had been unable to keep close enough, to prevent their extending, separating, and losing the traces of each other in the darkness.  Ney perceived that only a part of his people had come up; nevertheless, he might have always surmounted the obstacle, thereby secured his own safety, and waited on the other side.  The idea never once entered his mind; some one proposed it to him, but he rejected it instantly.  He allowed three hours for the rallying; and without suffering himself to be agitated by impatience, or the danger of waiting so long, he wrapped himself up in his cloak, and passed these three dangerous hours in a profound sleep on the bank of the river.  So much did he possess of the temperament of great men, a strong mind in a robust body, and that vigorous health, without which no man can ever expect to be a hero.

CHAP.  IX.