“‘There, there!’ stammered his friend, pointing to the flames, in which the unhappy cuirassier lay writhing and bellowing with agony. Rather conjecturing than comprehending what had occurred, Rasinski started up to rescue the sufferer. But it was too late. The heat had already stifled him; he lay motionless, the flame licking greedily round his limbs, and a thick nauseous smoke ascending in clouds from his funeral faggots. Rasinski stepped shudderingly backward, and turned away his face to conceal his emotion; then he observed that all around him lay buried in a deathlike sleep. Not one had been aroused by the terrible catastrophe that had occurred in the midst of so many living men.” After those long days of hunger and fatigue, the bonds of slumber were of iron strength, and difficult to loosen. And it was even more dangerous than difficult to rob the survivors of the Grand Army of that brief repose, often their sole solace and refreshment during the twenty-four hours. In his turn overtaken by delirium, Jaromir’s cries and complaints at last awoke the whole party round the fire. A low murmur arose amongst the soldiers, and rapidly increased. Soon they cast ominous and threatening glances at the young Pole, and at last their discontent found a voice. “‘Who is the madman, and what ails him?’ savagely exclaimed a bearded grenadier. ‘He robs us of our precious sleep! Thrust him from the fire—let him freeze if he cannot be still!’ “‘Ay, thrust him out!’ was the universal cry; and several sprang to accomplish the barbarous deed. Bianca uttered a cry of terror; Ludwig caught her in his right arm, and with his left kept off the assailants. Rasinski, who at once saw the greatness of the peril, left Jaromir in Bernard’s care, and leaped with flashing eyes into the midst of the circle. Ever prompt and decided, he snatched a half consumed branch from the fire, waved it above his head, and shouted with that lion’s voice so often heard above the thunder of the battle, ‘Back, knaves! The first step forward costs one of you his life.’ “The angry soldiers hesitated and hung back, yielding to Rasinski’s moral ascendency as much as to his threat of punishment. But then the grenadier drew his sabre and furiously exclaimed:— “‘What, dastards, are ye all afraid of one man? Forward! Down with the Polish dogs!’