the enemy might attack us, and then
retreat would have become difficult indeed. But the Emperor had
forgotten to give the order, and no one dared do anything without
orders. Not a marshal of France would have dared to take it upon
himself to say that two bridges were better than one. To such a point
had the terrible discipline of Napoleon reduced those old captains!
They obeyed like machines, and disturbed themselves about nothing.
Such was their fear of displeasing their master.

As I gazed at that bridge, which seemed endless, I thought, "Heaven
grant that they may let us cross now, for we have had enough of battles
and carnage! Once on the other side and we are on the road to France,
indeed, and I may again see Catharine, Aunt Gredel, and Father
Goulden!" So thinking, I grew sad; I gazed at the thousands of
artillerymen and baggage-guards swarming over the bridge, and saw the
tall bear-skin shakos of the Old Guard, who stood with shouldered arms
immovable on the hill of Lindenau on the other side of the river--and
as I thought they were fairly on their way to France, how I longed to
be in their place! Zebede, through whose mind the same thoughts were
running, said:

"Hey! Joseph; if we were only there!"

But I felt bitterly, indeed, when, about seven o'clock, three wagons
came to distribute provisions and ammunition among us, and it became
evident that we were to become the rear-guard. In spite of my hunger,
I felt like throwing my bread against a wall. A few moments after, two
squadrons of Polish lancers appeared coming up the bank, and behind
them five or six generals, Poniatowski among the number. He was a man
of about fifty, tall, slight, and with a melancholy expression. He
passed without looking at us. General Fournier, who now commanded our
brigade, spurred from among his staff, and cried:

"By file, left!"

I never so felt my heart sink. I would have sold my life for two
farthings; but nevertheless, we had to move on, and turn our backs to
the bridge.

We soon arrived at a place called Hinterthor--an old gate on the road
to Caunewitz. To the right and left stretched ancient ramparts, and
behind, rows of houses. We were posted in covered roads, near this
gate, which the sappers had strongly barricaded. Captain Vidal then
commanded the battalion, reduced to three hundred and twenty-five men.
A few worm-eaten palisades served us for intrenchments, and, on all the
roads before us, the ene