God is just. And so great was their new
allies' scorn of them, that they divided half Saxony between themselves
after the battle. The French might well laugh at Prussian, Austrian,
and Russian gratitude.

From the time of this desertion until evening, it was a war of
vengeance that we carried on; the allies might crush us by numbers, but
they should pay dearly for their victory!

At nightfall, while two thousand pieces of artillery were thundering
together, we were attacked for the seventh time in Schoenfeld. The
Russians on one side and the Prussians on the other poured in upon us.
We defended every house. In every lane the walls crumbled beneath the
bullets, and roofs fell in on every side. There were now no shouts as
at the beginning of the battle; all were cool and pale with rage. The
officers had collected scattered muskets and cartridge-boxes, and now
loaded and fired like the men. We defended the gardens, too, and the
cemetery, where we had bivouacked, until there were more dead above
than beneath the soil. Every inch of earth cost a life.

It was night when Marshal Ney brought up a reinforcement--whence I knew
not. It was what remained of Ricard's division and Souham's Second.
The _debris_ of our regiments united, and hurled the Russians to the
other side of the old bridge, which no longer had a rail, that having
been swept away by the shot. Six twelve-pounders were posted on the
bridge and maintained a fire for one hour longer. The remainder of the
battalion, and of some others in our rear, supported the guns; and I
remember how their flashes lit up the forms of men and horses, heaped
beneath the dark arches. The sight lasted only a moment, but it was a
horrible moment indeed!

At half-past seven, masses of cavalry advanced on our left, and we saw
them whirling about two large squares, which slowly retired. Then we
received orders to retreat. Not more than two or three thousand men
remained at Schoenfeld with the six pieces of artillery. We reached
Kohlgarten without being pursued, and were to bivouac around Rendnitz.
Zebede was yet living, and, as we marched on, listening to the
cannonade, which continued, despite the darkness, along the Elster, he
said, suddenly:

"How is it that we are here, Joseph, when so many thousand others that
stood by our side are dead? It seems as if we bore charmed lives, and
could not die."

I made no reply.

"Think you there was ever before such a battle