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, starving, utterly forgotten in a country
village![*] The brave officer had scarcely gone a hundred paces
towards Studzianka, when General Eble roused some of his patient