‘“Hesitate, sire!” said Aubuisson, starting back. “Never! If your Majesty had ordered me to the mouth of a mortar--but I wish to know----” ‘Napoleon did not permit him to conclude, but drawing him closer, whispered again a few words in his ear. “And, mark me,” said he, aloud, as he finished, “mark me, Aubuisson! silence--pas un mot? silence à la mort!” ‘“A la mort, sire!” repeated the general, while at the same moment Duroc hurried into the room, and cried out-- ‘“They are advancing towards the Elster; Macdonald’s rear-guard is engaged----” ‘A motion of Napoleon’s hand towards the door and a look at Aubuisson was the only notice he took of the intelligence, and the officer was gone. ‘While Duroc continued to detail the disastrous events the last arrived news had announced, the Emperor approached the window, which was still open, and looked out. All was in darkness towards that part of the city near the defile. The attack was on the distant rampart, near which the sky was red and lurid. Still, it was towards that dark and gloomy part that Napoleon’s eyes were turned, and not in the direction where the fight was still raging. Peering into the dense blackness, he stood without speaking, when suddenly a bright gleam of light shot up from the gloom, and then came three tremendous reports, so rapidly, one after the other, as almost to seem like one. The same instant a blaze of fire flashed upwards towards the sky, and glittering fragments of burning timber were hurled into the air. Napoleon covered his eyes with his hand, and leaned against the side of the window. ‘“It is the bridge over the Elster!” cried Duroc, in a voice half wild with passion. “They’ve blown up the bridge before Macdonald’s division have crossed.” ‘“Impossible!” said the Emperor. “Go see quickly, Duroc, what has happened.” ‘But before the general could leave the room, a wounded officer rushed in, his clothes covered with the marks of recent fire. ‘“The Sappers, sire! the Sappers-----” ‘“What of them?” said the Emperor. ‘“They’ve blown up the bridge, and the fourth corps are still in Leipsic.” ‘The next moment Napoleon was on his horse, surrounded by his staff, and galloping furiously towards the river. ‘Never was a scene more awful than that which now presented itself there. Hundreds of men had thrown themselves headlong into the rapid river, where masses of burning timber were falling on every side; horse and foot all mixed up in fearful confusion struggled madly in the stream, mingling their cries with the shouts of those who came on from behind, and who discovered for the first time that the retreat was cut off. The Duke of Tarento crossed, holding by his horse’s mane. Lauriston had nearly reached the bank, when he sank to rise no more; and Poniatowski, the chivalrous Pole, the last hope of his nation, was seen for an instant struggling with the waves, and then disappeared for ever.