evident that it cost his pride a terrible struggle to speak the decisive
word. The last days preceding the 18th were the saddest I have ever
known. In his ordinary intercourse with his friends and counselors his
Majesty manifested much coldness of manner; he became taciturn, and
entire hours passed without any one present having the courage to begin a
conversation. The Emperor, who was generally so hurried at his meals,
prolonged them most surprisingly. Sometimes during the day he threw
himself on a sofa, a romance in his hand which he simply pretended to
read, and seemed absorbed in deep reverie. Verses were sent to him from
Paris which he read aloud, expressing his opinion in a brief and
trenchant style; he spent three days writing regulations for the French
comedy at Paris. It is difficult to understand this attention to such
frivolous details when the future was so ominous. It was generally
believed, and probably not without reason, that the Emperor acted thus
from motives of deep policy, and that these regulations for the French
comedy at this time, when no bulletin had yet arrived to give information
of the disastrous position of the French army, were written with the
object of making an impression on the inhabitants of Paris, who would not
fail to say, "All cannot be going so badly, since the Emperor has time to
occupy himself with the theater."

The news received on the 18th put an end to all uncertainty. The Emperor
was reviewing, in the first court of the Kremlin palace, the divisions of
Ney, distributing the cross to the bravest among them, and addressing
encouraging words to all, when an aide-de-camp, young Beranger, brought
the news that a sharp engagement had taken place at Winkowo between Murat
and Kutusoff, and that the vanguard of Murat had been overwhelmed and our
position taken. Russia's intention to resume hostilities was now plainly
evident, and in the first excitement of the news the Emperor's
astonishment was at its height. There was, on the contrary, among the