accident at Smolensk, he devoted his very
_manes_ to the safety of his master, and made of his skin a protection
for my frozen and lacerated feet.

"My tongue refuses to repeat the story of our perils in that terrible
campaign. Perhaps some day I will write it with a pen dipped in
tears--tears, the tribute of feeble humanity. Surprised by the season of
frosts in a zone of ice, without fire, without bread, without shoes,
without means of transportation, denied the succor of Esculapius' art,
harassed by the Cossacks, robbed by the peasants--positive vampires, we
saw our mute thunderers, which had fallen into the enemy's hands, belch
forth death upon ourselves. What more can I tell you? The passage of the
Beresina, the opposition at Wilna--Oh, ye gods of Thunder!--- But I feel
that grief overcomes me, and that my language is becoming tinged with
the bitterness of these recollections.

"Nature and Love were holding in reserve for me brief but precious
consolations. Released from my fatigues, I passed a few happy days in my
native land among the peaceful vales of Nancy. While our phalanxes were
preparing themselves for fresh combats, while I was gathering around my
flag three thousand young but valorous warriors, all resolved to open to
posterity the path of honor, a new emotion, to which I had before been a
stranger, furtively glided into my soul.

"Beautified by all Nature's gifts, enriched by the fruits of an
excellent education, the young and interesting Clementine had scarcely
passed from the uncertain shadows of childhood into the sweet illusions
of youth. Eighteen springs composed her life. Her parents extended to
some of the army officers a hospitality which, though it was not
gratuitous, was far from lacking in cordiality. To see their child and
love her, was for me the affair of a day. Her virgin heart smiled upon
my love. At the first avowals dictated to me by my passion, I saw her
forehead color with a lovely modesty. We exchanged our vows one lovely
evening in June, under an arbor where her happy father sometimes
dispensed to the thirsty officers the brown liquor of the North. I swore
that she should be my wife, and she promised to be mine; she yielded
still more. Our happiness, regardless of all outside, had the calmness
of a brook whose pure wave is never troubled by the storm, and which
rolls sweetly between flowery banks, spreading its own freshness through
the grove that protects its modest course.

"A