bridge. Compel all
that has two legs to get to the other side of the river. The burning of
everything--EVERYTHING--is now our last resource. If Berthier had let
me destroy those damned camp equipages, this river would swallow only
my poor pontoniers, those fifty heroes who will save the army, but who
themselves will be forgotten."

The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He felt that
Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do justice
to those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of Beresina, to
destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those heroes still
lives--or, to speak more correctly, suffers--in a village, totally
ignored.

The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer gone a
hundred yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a number
of his weary pontoniers, and began the work,--the charitable work of
burning the bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing the sleepers,
thus dislodged, to cross the river.

Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without difficulty, the
only wooden house still left standing in Studzianka.

"This barrack seems pretty full, comrade," he said to a man whom he saw
by the doorway.

"If you can get in you'll be a clever trooper," replied the officer,
without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the bark
of the logs of which the house was built.

"Is that you, Philippe?" said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend by
the tones of his voice.

"Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?" replied Monsieur de Sucy, looking
at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three years of
age. "I thought you were the other side of that cursed river. What are
you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our dessert? You'll be
welcome," and he went on slicing off the bark, which he gave as a sort
of provender to his horse.

"I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to make
for Zembin. You'll have barely enough time to get through that crowd of
men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and force them
to march."

"You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two friends
I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be dead
already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don't eat myself. Have
you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours since anything has gone
into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a m