"Marshal Perod!" shouted the Russians. "He is a little Suwarrow!
Long live little Suwarrow! Long live Marshal Forward!" and, amid
renewed battle--cries in honor of Blucher, and with resistless
impetuosity, the Russians assaulted the gate.
While these scenes were passing outside the city, Napoleon remained
within. He had sat up till daylight with Caulaincourt and Bertmer,
receiving reports and issuing orders; toward morning he had slept a
little, and now, at ten o'clock, he dictated his last orders to the
two generals. In the streets were heard the roar of artillery, the
crashing of falling buildings, the wails, shrieks, and shouts of the
terrified inhabitants. The field-pieces rattled past, regiments
trotted along, and disappeared around the corners, constituting a
scene of indescribable terror and destruction; but here, in the
emperor's room, every thing presented a spectacle of peace and
repose. Caulaincourt and Berthier sat at their desks, writing. The
emperor was slowly walking up and down. He did not even listen to
the noise outside; he dictated his orders in a calm, firm voice, and
his face was as immovable as usual.
"Marshal Macdonald," said the emperor, concluding his instructions,
"is commissioned to defend the city and the suburbs; for this
purpose he will have his own corps, and those of Lauriston,
Poniatowsky, and Keynier.
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