“‘Marshal Kutusow sends me,’ began the officer. ‘He would not offend so renowned a warrior and general by asking him to lay down his arms, if any alternative remained open. Upon the surrounding heights stand eighty thousand men, and one hundred pieces of cannon. If you doubt my words, you are at liberty to send an officer, whom I will conduct through our ranks that he may count our strength.’ “‘I hope to get near enough to your army to count them myself,’ replied the marshal with flashing eyes. ‘Tell Prince Kutusow that Marshal Ney has never yet surrendered, and that the world’s history shall never record his having done so. Yonder is the goal which duty and honour assign me; I will break a road through your ranks, though your forests became armies.’ “‘They _will_ do so,’ replied the Russian. The words had scarce left his lips, when the thunder of artillery echoed from the heights in front and on the left flank, and an iron hail crashed and rattled upon the icy surface of the plain. “‘This is treachery!’ cried the marshal sternly, as he looked up and beheld the hills crowned on all sides with levelled guns, and dark masses of troops. ‘There is no parleying under fire! You are my prisoner!’ “The officer, confounded at being thus sacrificed by the imprudence or recklessness of his friends, gave up his sword. “‘Take him to the rear!’ commanded the marshal. ‘General Ricard, forward! Attack the enemy with the bayonet. You shall have the honour of opening the road.’ “The general, at the head of fifteen hundred men, pressed resolutely forward.”