s the Beresina with the five thousand
heroes whom he was leading to the Emperor. The miserable creatures
preferred to be trampled and crushed to death rather than stir from
their places, and died without a sound, smiling at the dead ashes of
their fires, forgetful of France.

Not before ten o'clock that night did the Duc de Belluno reach the other
side of the river. Before committing his men to the pontoon bridges that
led to Zembin, he left the fate of the rearguard at Studzianka in Eble's
hands, and to Eble the survivors of the calamities of the Beresina owed
their lives.

About midnight, the great General, followed by a courageous officer,
came out of his little hut by the bridge, and gazed at the spectacle
of this camp between the bank of the Beresina and the Borizof road to
Studzianka. The thunder of the Russian cannonade had ceased. Here
and there faces that had nothing human about them were lighted up by
countless fires that seemed to grow pale in the glare of the snowfields,
and to give no light. Nearly thirty thousand wretches, belonging to
every nation that Napoleon had hurled upon Russia, lay there hazarding
their lives with the indifference of brute beasts.

"We have all these to save," the General said to his subordinate.
"To-morrow morning the Russians will be in Studzianka. The moment they
come up we shall have to set fire to the bridge; so pluck up heart,
my boy! Make your way out and up yonder through them, and tell General
Fournier that he has barely time to evacuate his post and cut his way
through to the bridge. As soon as you have seen him set out, follow
him down, take some able-bodied men, and set fire to the tents, wagons,
caissons, carriages, anything and everything, without pity, and drive
these fellows on to the bridge. Compel everything that walks on two legs
to take refuge on the other bank. We must set fire to the camp; it
is our last resource. If Berthier had let me burn those d----d wagons
sooner, no lives need have been lost in the river except my poor
pontooners, my fifty heroes, who saved the Army, and will be forgotten."

The General passed his hand over his forehead and said no more. He felt
that Poland would be his tomb, and foresaw that afterwards no voice
would be raised to speak for the noble fellows who had plunged into the
stream--into the waters of the Beresina!--to drive in the piles for the
bridges. And, indeed, only one of them is living now, or, to be more
accurate, st