The Detroit times., 1913-09-02

ne SOm6tlkOeb mdue mlStdkcS lot JOY
of the story but when descriptions
OF the Emperor's policy came, and
lists Of provisions and such things,
then. naturally, one was at times
tired. Yet the work followed the bent
of his inclination. for all that con.
cerned war and soldiers concerned
this lad of twelve. World after world
opened before him as he worked in
the big room at his table, set into the
window slitted into the deep gray
| wall. A bookcase stood out at the
angle there; one would hardly see the
still little figure, the thin ankle twist.
ed about the rounds of the high chair
| the slim shoulders bent over the
! sheets Of writing. Often the general
talked to him.
Eth bien. there, the Marshall"
would come laundering from the great
table across the roome and the scribe
would drop his pen and scuttle over
the dim wide place.
Yes, Monsieur, the eigneur.
am here"
Listen then. my soldier am
uncertain II this that have written
Is Of Importance. It Is interesting to
me, because Gaspard Gourgaud was
there, yet I do not wish to ram Cas-
pard Gourgoud down readers
throat. SO listen. you marmot, as an
officer OF rank. and as a literary critic
and say truthfully II you find 1t in
tereseing."
Francois squatted on a stool exact
ly in front Of the general, with his
knees together and his elbows on
them, his chin In the hollow of his
hands. His eyes were glued on ne
generals face. In deep voice .ne
general read 1t was an account OF
that world-tragedy. the retreat from
Moscow. First came q list of regi-
ments and OF officers, with detailed
accounts of early service In both; It
was exact, accurate. For five min.
utes the general read this then his
black eyebrows lifted and he glared
over the paper.
You find 1t Interestingly" he de-
manded.
Francois, lips compressed, shook
his head firmly. mo, my Siegneur.
Not at ALL" And the generals gaze
concentrated fercely on the humble
patch Of brown homespun. The boys
great eyes met his calmly.
II agree with you," the general
said, and sorted the papers over ar'
laid some away. You are an unct -
mon critic" he went on. You speaA :
the truth. It Is what want" Sc
lecting q sheet or two, he began to
read again.
"Over the frozen roads the worn
army still trudged; every form or
misery trudged with them. Hunger
was there, and cold; and suffering OF
wounds, and suffering Of lack OF
clothing: more than this, there was
the constant dread of attack from fiy-
ing bands of Cossacks. From time
to time frightful explosions made one
turn ones head--it was the caissons
exploded by order Of the Emperor
that they might no longer cucumber
us. The snow fell. The low-hangfng
sky was heavy with more snow
clouds: often a wind cut to our Ill
covered bones the road was sleetv;
the worn shoes of the emaciated
horses slipped on the frozen ground;
the soldiers put their shoulders to
the wheels to help their horses.
Through the reverberating tones
Of the old soldier cut a child's sign.
The bushy eyebrows arched and
glance shot over the paper at the
tense small figure. The voice went
on.
The emperor marched on foot with
US, stan in hand, wrapped in a large
loose cloak, buried Russian cap on
his head, he walked In the midet of
his household, encouraging with a
word, with q smile. every one who
came near him. At night he slept Of
ten in a cabin without doors or win
dows, his rough bed screened with
difflculty he shared our sorrows. our
Little Corporal, our Emperor. He
was pale, but calm as always. for hir
face never showed his mind. Over
frozen roads OF Russia, strewn with
the men and horses who we're killed
by fatigue and famine. day after day
Napoleon walked with his army"
There was no sound now, but the
general. glancing up again, met eyes
SO on Are that he was disconnected
and lost his place. In moment he
had found it again.
There we're many adventures
which showed the souls OF men shin
ing through the nightmare Of this hor-
rible time. Many noble deeds were
done, many heartbreaking ones. One
which was both happened to me.
There was an Italian officer In the
corps under Prince Eugene. who had
been my comrade when was on the
stan of Lannes; his name was Zappi
the Marquis Zappi. On the day az
ter the dreadful passing Of the Bere-
sina River. suddenly felt my
strength go-I could walk no longer.
The horrors OF the day before had
capped the long stretch Of privation;
like thousands of others. must drop
out and die. looked at the piles of
snow by the trampled roadside. at the
gray sky over neon that frozen bed,
under that pitiless roof, I must lie
down. A sick loathing seized me. and
groaned and dragged my heavy feet
forward, to stay with my friends even
q few steps more. And with that an
arm was around me suddenly, and
heard Zappi's quiet voice.
(Contlnued)
Sob Pristing Dene night. Tines