“You will hold the council here?” asked M. de Broglie. “In my outer chamber--see to it for me, M. le Duc. I must confess that I am a sick man and something overwhelmed.” His colleague looked at him a moment, then crossed the room impulsively and kissed the hand that lay on the brocaded velvet cushions; then, with a deep obeisance, withdrew. To reach the quarters of the aide-de-camp whose duty it would be to summon the Generals to the sudden council, M. de Broglie had to pass through the guardroom of this portion of the irregular buildings that formed the Hradcany. Two officers of the _régiment du roi_ sat by an insufficient fire; one was reading, the other, of a singular and youthful beauty, was writing a letter on a drum-head. As they rose and saluted M. de Broglie paused. “Ah, M. de Vauvenargues,” he said excitedly, “what do you read?” “Corneille, Monsieur,” answered the Marquis. “I think you are a philosopher,” returned M. de Broglie. “I will give you something to meditate upon. The army leaves Prague to-morrow.” Georges d’Espagnac looked up with a flush of joy. “Monsieur,” he cried, “then it is to be action at last!” The Duke gave him a flickering look of pity. “A retreat to Eger, my friend. I hope,” he added gravely, “we shall all meet again there.” He saluted and passed on. “Oh!” exclaimed the Marquis softly--“a retreat in mid-December.” He closed the volume of Corneille and glanced at the eager face of his companion. They could hear the wind that swirled the snow without. CHAPTER V THE RETREAT FROM PRAGUE The French quitted Prague on the evening of the 16th of December, leaving only a small garrison in the Hradcany; by the 18th the vanguard had reached Pürgitz at the crossing of the rivers, and then the snow, that had paused for two days, commenced towards evening and the cold began to increase almost beyond human endurance. At first their retreat had been harried by Austrian guns and charges of the Hungarian Pandours, but the enemy did not follow them far. The cannon was no longer in their ears; for twenty-four hours they marched through the silence of a barren, deserted country. The road was now so impassable, the darkness so impenetrable, the storm so severe, the troops so exhausted that M. de Belleisle ordered a halt, though all they had for camping-ground was a ragged ravine, a strip of valley by the river, and, for the Generals, a few broken houses in the devastated village of Pürgitz. The officers of the _régiment du roi_ received orders to halt as they were painfully making their way through the steep mountain paths; they shrugged and laughed and proceeded without comment to make their camp. It was impossible to put up the tents, both by reason of the heavy storm of snow and the rocky ground; the best they could do was to fix some of the canvas over the piled gun carriages and baggage wagons and so get men and horses into some kind of shelter.