t a battle.

Rostopchin was incensed at this intelligence, but his resolution
remained unshaken. There was now no time to be lost; no farther pains
were taken to conceal from Moscow the fate that was destined for it;
indeed it was not worth while to dissemble for the sake of the few
inhabitants who were left; and, besides, it was necessary to induce them
to seek their safety in flight.

At night, therefore, emissaries went round, knocking at every door and
announcing the conflagration. Fuses were introduced at every favorable
aperture, especially into the shops covered with iron, in the
tradesmen's quarter, and the fire-engines were carried off. The
desolation had now attained its highest pitch, and each individual,
according to his disposition, was either overwhelmed with despair or
urged to a decision. Most of those who were left formed groups in the
public places; they crowded together, questioned each other, and asked
each other's advice; while many wandered about at random, some depressed
by terror, others in a frightful state of exasperation. At length the
army, their last hope, deserted them: the troops began to traverse the
city, and in their retreat they hurried along with them the still
considerable remnant of its population.

They departed by the Kolomna gate,[141] surrounded by a multitude of
women, children, and aged persons, in the deepest affliction. The fields
were covered with them. They fled in all directions, by every path,
across the country, without provisions, and laden with such of their
effects as, in their agitation, they had first laid their hands on.
Some, for want of horses, had harnessed themselves to carts, and in this
manner dragged along their infant children, a sick wife, or an infirm
father; in short, whatever they held most dear. The woods afforded them
shelter, and they subsisted on the charity of their countrymen.

On that day a terrific scene terminated this melancholy drama. This, the
last day of Moscow, having arrived, Rostopchin collected together all
whom he had been able to retain and arm. The prisons were thrown open. A
squalid and disgusting crew tumultuously issued from them. These
wretches rushed into the streets with ferocious joy. Two men, a Russian
and a Frenchman, the one accused of treason, the other of political
indiscretion, were selected from among this horde, and dragged before
Rostopchin, who fiercely reproached the Russian with his crime. He was
the son of a