all."

As we went through the village street, Zebede said, "You have bread?"

"Yes."

I broke it in two, and gave him half. We began to eat, at the same
time hastening on. We heard distant firing. At the end of twenty
minutes we had overtaken the rear of the column, and recognized the
battalion of Captain Adjutant-Major Vidal, who was marching near it.
We had taken our places in the ranks before any one noticed our absence.

The nearer we approached the city the more detachments, cannon and
baggage we encountered hastening to Leipzig.

Toward ten o'clock we passed through the faubourg of Rendnitz. The
general of brigade, Fournier, took command of us and ordered us to
oblique to the left. At midnight we arrived at the long promenades
which border the Pleisse, and halted under the old leafless lindens,
and stacked arms. A long line of fires flickered in the fog as far as
Randstadt; and, when the flames burnt high, they threw a glare on
groups of Polish lancers, lines of horses, cannon, and wagons, while,
at intervals beyond, sentinels stood like statues in the mist. A
heavy, hollow sound arose from the city, and mingled with the rolling
of our trains over the bridge at Lindenau. It was the beginning of the
retreat.

Then every one put his knapsack at the foot of a tree and stretched
himself on the ground, his arm under his head. A quarter of an hour
after all were sleeping.

XX

What occurred until daybreak I know not. Baggage, wounded, and
prisoners doubtless continued to crowd across the bridge. But then a
terrific shock woke us all. We started up, thinking the enemy were
upon us, when two officers of hussars came galloping in with the news
that a powder wagon had exploded by accident in the grand avenue of
Randstadt, at the river-side. The dark, red smoke rolled up to the
sky, and slowly disappeared, while the old houses continued to shake as
if an earthquake were rolling by.

Quiet was soon restored. Some lay down to sleep: but it was growing
lighter every minute; and, glancing toward the river, I saw our troops
extending until lost in the distance along the five bridges of the
Elster and Pleisse, which follow, one after another, and make, so to
speak, but one. Thousands of men must defile over this bridge, and, of
necessity, take time in doing so. And the idea struck every one that
it would have been much better to have thrown several bridges across
the two rivers; for at any instant