They passed quickly through this wood; but about ten o’clock at night, they met with a small river embanked in a deep ravine, which they were obliged to cross one by one, as they had done the Dnieper.  Intent on the pursuit of these poor fellows, the Cossacks again got sight of them, and tried to take advantage of that moment:  but Ney, by a few discharges of his musketry, again repulsed them.  They surmounted this obstacle with difficulty, and in an hour after reached a large village, where hunger and exhaustion compelled them to halt for two hours longer.

The next day, the 19th of Nov., from midnight till ten o’clock in the morning, they kept marching on, without meeting any other enemy than a hilly country; about that time Platof’s columns again made their appearance, and Ney halted and faced them, under the protection of the skirts of a wood.  As long as the day lasted, his soldiers were obliged to resign themselves to see the enemy’s bullets overturning the trees which served to shelter them, and furrowing their bivouacs; for they had now nothing but small arms, which could not keep the Cossack artillery at a sufficient distance.

On the return of night, the marshal gave the usual signal, and they proceeded on their march to Orcha.  During the preceding day, he had already despatched thither Pchebendowski with fifty horse, to require assistance; they must already have arrived there, unless the enemy had already gained possession of that town.

Ney’s officers concluded their narrative by saying, that during the rest of their march, they had met with several formidable obstacles, but that they did not think them worth relating.  They continued, however, speaking enthusiastically of their marshal, and making us sharers of their admiration of him; for even his equals had no idea of being jealous of him.  He had been too much regretted, and his preservation had excited too agreeable emotions, to allow envy to have any part in them; besides, Ney had placed himself completely beyond its reach.  As to himself, in all this heroism, he had gone so little beyond his natural disposition, that had it not been for the eclat of his glory in the eyes, the gestures, and the acclamations of every one, he would never have imagined that he had done a sublime action.

And this was not an enthusiasm of surprise.  Each of the latter days had had its remarkable men; amongst others, that of the 16th had Eugene, that of the 17th Mortier; but from this time, Ney was universally proclaimed the hero of the retreat.

The distance between Smolensk and Orcha is hardly five days’ march.  In that short passage, what a harvest of glory had been reaped! how little space and time are required to establish an immortal renown!  Of what nature then are these great inspirations, that invisible and impalpable germ of great devotion, produced in a few moments, issuing from a single heart, and which must fill time and eternity?