Unexpected grumblings ran through the ranks; then suddenly the vanguard stopped, and declared that it would go no farther.  In vain Foedor, who commanded a company, begged and entreated his own men to set an example by continuing the march:  they threw down their arms, and lay down beside them.  Just as they had given this proof of insubordination, fresh murmurs, sounding like an approaching storm, rose from the rear of the army:  they were caused by the sight of Souvarow, who was riding from the rear to the vanguard, and who arrived at the front accompanied by this terrible proof of mutiny and insubordination.  When he reached the head of the column, the murmurings had developed into imprecations.

Then Souvarow addressed his soldiers with that savage eloquence to which he owed the miracles he had effected with them, but cries of “Retreat!  Retreat!” drowned his voice.  Then he chose out the most mutinous, and had them thrashed until they were overcome by this shameful punishment:  But the thrashings had no more influence than the exhortation, and the shouts continued.  Souvarow saw that all was lost if he did not employ some powerful and unexpected means of regaining the mutineers.  He advanced towards Foedor.  “Captain,” said he, “leave these fools here, take eight non-commissioned officers and dig a grave.”  Foedor, astonished, gazed at his general as though demanding an explanation of this strange order.  “Obey orders,” said Souvarow.

Foedor obeyed, and the eight men set to work; and ten minutes later the grave was dug, greatly to the astonishment of the whole army, which had gathered in a semicircle on the rising slopes of the two hills which bordered the road, standing as if on the steps of a huge amphitheatre.

Souvarow dismounted from his horse, broke his sword in two and threw it into the grave, detached his epaulets one by one and threw them after his sword, dragged off the decorations which covered his breast and cast these after the sword and epaulets, and then, stripping himself naked, he lay down in the grave himself, crying in a loud voice—­

“Cover me with earth!  Leave your general here.  You are no longer my children, and I am no longer your father; nothing remains to me but death.”

At these strange words, which were uttered in so powerful a voice that they were heard by the whole army, the Russian grenadiers threw themselves weeping into the grave, and, raising their general, asked pardon of him, entreating him to lead them again against the enemy.

“At last,” cried Souvarow, “I recognise my children again.  To the enemy!”

Not cries but yells of joy greeted his words.  Souvarav dressed himself again, and whilst he was dressing the leaders of the mutiny crept in the dust to kiss his feet.  Then, when his epaulets were replaced on his shoulders, and when his decorations again shone on his breast, he remounted his horse, followed by the army, the soldiers swearing with one voice that they would all die rather than abandon their father.