Zibin had not been in St. Petersburg many days without becoming aware that an idle life in society would not be conducive either to consideration or glory; hence, he changed his civilian clothes for the uniform of a non-commissioned officer of hussars. At the beginning of the campaign he was made an ensign; a short time afterwards he got his company. One day, his general commanded him to make a reconnaissance with fifty Cossacks in order to bring back some malingerers. At a couple of miles distance from the encampment, Zibin notices a black mass hidden among the reeds. They turn out to be guns left by the enemy before retreating. There were sixteen of them. The troops dismount, the horses are put to the gun-carriages, and a few hours later Captain Zibin returns in possession of a small but complete artillery park, practically fished out of the marshes. The Emperor was not far away, and Zibin himself was instructed to convey the particulars of his capture. Alexander read the report, and, giving the young hussar the credit of a success solely due to chance, conferred upon him there and then the rank of major, at the same time taking from his own breast the Cross of St. George and fastening it into the buttonhole of the freshly promoted officer. The rest was mainly the natural consequence of this first piece of luck: new orders were added to that one, and as it never rains but it pours, Zibin, during the many leisure hours in camp, had gambled, and won not less than four hundred thousand roubles. The Prince de Ligne was not far wrong in saying that glory was a courtesan who gets hold of you when you least expect it. Towards the end of the evening another lucky chance made me run up against my excellent friend, General Tettenborn. ‘We have got a good deal to tell each other,’ he said. ‘It’s of no use starting here. Let us go and dine to-morrow by ourselves at the Augarten; it is the only means of not being interrupted.’ Naturally, I accepted, and Tettenborn was punctual to the minute. ‘Though as a rule, the Viennese restaurateurs do not give you a good dinner,’ he began, ‘I happen to have been in their good books here for many years, and Yan has promised to do his best.’ And in fact, quantity made up for quality. When we got to the dessert, and some Tokay was put before us, my friend at once began his interesting story. ‘Since I saw you last, the events of my life have followed each other in as quick a succession as the circumstances that gave them birth. You are aware of my having accompanied Prince Schwartzenberg on his mission to Paris. I was still there when the King of Rome was born, and I was selected to carry the news to our emperor.’ ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘and I read in all the newspapers that you made that journey of three hundred and twenty leagues [about nine hundred and sixty miles] in four days and a half.’