“The day declined: the 3d corps marched in silence; none knew what was to become of us. But Marshal Ney’s presence sufficed to reassure us. Without knowing what he would or could do, we knew he would do something. His self-confidence equalled his courage. The greater the danger, the more prompt was his determination; and when once he had made up his mind, he never doubted of success. Thus, in that terrible hour, his countenance expressed neither indecision nor uneasiness; all eyes were fixed upon him, but none dared question him. At last, seeing near him an officer of his staff, he said to him in a low voice: _We are not well._—_What shall you do?_ replied the officer.—_Pass the Dnieper._—_Where is the road?_—_We shall find it._—_And if the river is not frozen?_—_It will be._—_So be it_, said the officer. This singular dialogue, which I here set down word for word, revealed the marshal’s project of reaching Orcha by the right bank of the river, and so rapidly as still to find there the army, which was making its movement by the left bank. The plan was bold and ably conceived; it will be seen with what vigour it was executed. “We marched across the fields, without a guide, and the inexactness of the maps contributed to mislead us. Marshal Ney, endowed with that peculiar talent of the great soldier which teaches how to take advantage of the slightest indications, observed some ice in the direction we were following, and had it broken, thinking it must be a rivulet that would lead us to the Dnieper. It really was a rivulet; we followed it, and reached a village, where the Marshal feigned to establish himself for the night. Fires were lighted and pickets thrown out. The enemy left us quiet, expecting to have us cheap the next day. Under cover of this stratagem, the Marshal followed up his plan. A guide was wanted, and the village was deserted; at last the soldiers discovered a lame peasant; they asked him where was the Dnieper, and if frozen. He replied, that at a league off was the village of Sirokowietz, and that the Dnieper must there be frozen. We set out, conducted by this peasant, and soon reached the village. The Dnieper was sufficiently frozen to be traversed on foot. Whilst they sought a place to cross, the houses rapidly filled with officers and soldiers, wounded that morning, who had dragged themselves thus far, and to whose hurts the surgeons could hardly apply the first dressings; those who were not wounded busied themselves in seeking provisions. Marshal Ney, forgetful alike of the day’s and the morrow’s dangers, was buried in a profound sleep.