Scarcely had the boat touched the opposite bank of the stream, when a lady ran down to meet it, and stretched out her arms to receive the boy. But the next moment a cry of bitter disappointment rang through the air. This was not _her_ child--not the darling for whose recovery she had offered all her golden store. The broken-hearted mother turned away, and Henri saw her no more. Still holding Guido in his arms, he followed listlessly and mechanically the stream of fugitives who were taking the road to Vilna. CHAPTER XXII. THE AIDE-DE-CAMP OF ST. PRIEST. “You would not let your little finger ache For such as these? But I would _die_, said he.” The miserable fugitives who succeeded, at the cost of so much suffering, in crossing the icy waters of the Beresina, found no “promised land” on the other side. Better had it been if with one accord they had laid down their arms on the banks of that fatal river, and surrendered to the mercy of the enemy. The horrors that awaited them well-nigh cast into oblivion those they had already passed through, and filled to absolute overflowing the cup of trembling put into their hands. Until then the cold had not exceeded that of the ordinary winter of those regions; but during that terrible month of December it grew ever more and more intense, until it reached a pitch of severity almost beyond precedent. A silent, invisible, invincible enemy, it mowed down the ranks of strong men with a pitiless scythe, sparing neither the young recruit nor the hardened veteran who had passed unscathed through all the sufferings of the preceding campaign. Henri de Talmont was at first only conscious of one definite purpose, that of keeping his little charge from perishing with cold. If he could but bring him alive to Vilna, perhaps he might find Madame Leone there and restore him to her. Seeing that a crowd had gathered about a carriage which had been overturned, and which they were plundering of its contents, he joined it in the hope of obtaining some provisions for the way. With more consideration for Guido’s tastes than for his own, he seized eagerly upon a small bag of sugar and a box of chocolate bonbons. He afterwards made use of the chocolate as a bribe to induce the little one to run along by his side, for he was scarcely strong enough to carry him. But the poor little fellow was unable to endure the piercing cold, and cried piteously to be taken up again in his arms. Weak though he was himself, Henri could not resist the appeal; but it hastened the inevitable moment when, utterly overcome with fatigue, he was fain to lie down and rest, even at the risk of rising again no more. So many broken and abandoned properties of all kinds strewed the way that it was not difficult to contrive a sort of shelter for the night. A disabled gun-carriage and a couple of cloaks served Henri as a tent for himself and Guido, whom he folded to his breast as warmly as he could, and both were soon fast asleep.