at, he was a few paces to
the right of the high road, at the bottom of a ravine, close to the
rivulet and village of Ghorodinia, in the habitation of a weaver, an
old, crazy, filthy, wooden hut. Here he was half a league from
Malo-Yaroslawetz, at the commencement of the bend of the Louja. It was
in this worm-eaten dwelling, and in a dirty dark room, parted off into
two by a cloth, that the fate of the army and of Europe was about to be
decided.

The first hours of the night passed in receiving reports. All agreed
that the enemy was making preparations against the next day for a
battle, which all were disposed to decline. About eleven o'clock
Bessieres entered. This marshal owed his elevation to honourable
services, and above all to the affection of the Emperor, who had become
attached to him as to a creation of his own. It is true, that a man
could not be a favourite with Napoleon, as with any other monarch; that
it was necessary at least to have followed and been of some service to
him, for he sacrificed little to the agreeable; in short, it was
requisite that he should have been more than a witness of so many
victories; and the Emperor when fatigued, accustomed himself to see with
eyes which he believed to be of his own formation.

He had sent this marshal to examine the attitude of the enemy. Bessieres
had obeyed: he had carefully explored the front of the Russian position.
"It is," said he, "unassailable!"--"Oh heavens!" exclaimed the Emperor,
clasping his hands, "are you sure you are right? Are you not mistaken?
Will you answer for that?" Bessieres repeated his assertion: he affirmed
that "three hundred grenadiers would there be sufficient to keep in
check a whole army." Napoleon then crossed his arms with a look of
consternation, hung his head, and remained as if overwhelmed with the
deepest dejection. "His army was victorious and himself conquered. His
route was intercepted, his manoeuvre, thwarted: Kutusoff, an old man,
a Scythian, had been beforehand with him! And he could not accuse his
star. Did not the sun of France seem to have followed him to Russia? Was
not the road to Malo-Yaroslawetz open but the preceding day? It was not
his fortune then that had failed him, but he who had been wanting to his
fortune?"

Absorbed in this abyss of painful reflections, he fell into so profound
a stupor, that none of those about him could draw from him a single
word. Scarcely could a nod of the head be obtained from him