He was startled by a voice near him. “Monsieur Henri, is it you? Is it really you?” cried some one in the crowd, seizing his hand and grasping it. “This is indeed a miracle.” “Féron! dear Féron!” exclaimed Henri, springing from his seat in the carriage and throwing himself into the arms of his comrade. Questions and explanations followed, and each told the other his adventures since they parted. “Where is our regiment?” asked Henri. “It has ceased to exist,” returned Féron. “‘Sauve qui peut’ is our only marching order now.” “Ah, friend,” said Henri, “I see you have suffered. Your hand--” “Frost-bitten one bitter night. I could not help thinking when I lost it of that poor Russian whom we branded in the hand before we came to Moscow. Do you remember him, Monsieur Henri?” “I ought to remember him. I saw him again in the city, and he did me a good turn.--Now, Féron, I want you, if you can, to help me to protect this lady and these two helpless little children.” “_If_ I can. But we must be patient. Those who are rushing madly forward to try and reach the bridge only increase their own danger. Already they are trampling one another down by dozens.” “Ay,” said Henri, “because they are afraid the bridges will be burned or broken as soon as the effective troops have passed over them, to protect the retreat of the Emperor.” “Fools! Do they think the Emperor will let the bridges be touched so long as one Frenchman or Frenchwoman remains upon this side? They do not know him,” returned Féron. “Perhaps not,” said Henri sadly. “Ah, what is this?” he cried the next moment, as a bullet whizzed close by them through the air. “I believe our rear-guard and the Russians are fighting it out, and we are near enough to come in for a stray shot or two.” “Then help me to turn this carriage over, that we may make a shelter for the lady.” This was accomplished, not without some difficulty. Anxious hours of suspense and forced inactivity followed. Night fell, but an awful light still illumined the landscape. What looked like a semicircle of flame environed half the sky. It was the fiery breath of the Russian cannon. Suddenly there came a sound of fearful shrieks, and a frantic swaying and tossing of the crowd. One of the bridges--that constructed for the artillery--had broken down, precipitating its living freight into the freezing waters beneath; and the miserable multitude on the bank, who were suffering more and more from the cannonade of the enemy, now rushed forward in blind terror to gain the only remaining bridge. Henri lost sight of Madame Leone and the baby in the press, and it was with difficulty that he saved little Guido from being trodden under foot, by holding him continually in his arms. Féron kept by his side throughout. At last, however, he cried aloud suddenly, “Comrade, I am done for! That bullet--” Henri saw it was too true. In great distress he knelt down beside him and tried to stanch the blood that was flowing from his breast.