And yet he slept.
A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. The sense
of his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his heart. He
uttered a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were alone
afoot. A sea of fire lay before them in the darkness of the night,
licking up the cabins and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, and
imprecations reached their ears; they saw against the flames thousands
of human beings with agonized or furious faces. In the midst of that
hell, a column of soldiers was forcing its way to the bridge, between
two hedges of dead bodies.
"It is the retreat of the rear-guard!" cried the major. "All hope is
gone!"
"I have saved your carriage, Philippe," said a friendly voice.
Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in the
flaring of the flames.
"Ah! all is lost!" replied the major, "they have eaten my horse; and
how can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?"
"Take a brand from the fire and threaten them."
"Threaten the countess!"
"Good-bye," said the aide-de-camp, "I have scarcely time to get across
that fatal river--and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a night!
These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will allow
themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move on.
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