The council of war had then adjourned, and the Duke of Brunswick hastened to his quarters, in order, like the Prince von Hohenlohe, to go to bed and sleep.

An hour lafer, profound silence reigned also in the Prussian camp at Auerstadt. The Duke of Brunswick slept, and so did his soldiers.

The king alone was awake.

With a heavy heart and a gloomy face, he was walking up and down in his tent. He felt indescribably lonesome, for his wife was no longer with him. Yielding, with bitter tears, to the supplications of her husband, she had left the camp to-day and gone toward Naumburg.

The king had implored her to go, but his heart was heavy; and when he at last, late at night, repaired to his couch, slumber kept aloof from his eyes.

At the same time, while the Prussian army and its generals were sleeping, a wondrous scene took place not far from them, and a singular procession moved across the fields at no great distance from Jena.

Silence, darkness, and fog reigned all around. But suddenly the fog parted, and two torch-bearers, with grave faces, appeared accompanying a man clad in a green overcoat, with white facings, with a small three-cornered hat on his head, and mounted on a white horse. The blaze of the torches illuminated his pale face; his eyes were as keen as those of an eagle, and seemed to command the fog to disappear, so that he might see what it was concealing from him. At his side, whenever the torches blazed up, two other horsemen, in brilliant uniforms, were to be seen; but their eyes did not try to pierce the fog, but to fathom the face of the proud man at their side; their eyes were fixed on him, on his pale face, on which, even at this hour of the night, the sun of Austerlitz was shedding his golden rays.

While the Prussian army and its generals were sleeping, Napoleon was awake and was arranging the plans for the impending battle. The postmaster of Jena and General Denzel were his torch-bearers; Marshal Lannes and Marshal Soult were his companions.

The Emperor Napoleon was reconnoitering, in the dead of night, the ground on which he was to gain a battle over the Prussians on the morrow, as he had recently gained a battle over the Austrians.

Austria had had her Austerlitz; Prussia was to have her Auerstadt and Jena.

Napoleon had fixed his plan; to-morrow was the day when he would take revenge on the King of Prussia for the treaty of Potsdam and the alliance with Russia.

Arriving at the foot of the hill of Jena, the emperor stopped and alighted, in order to ascend it on foot. When he reached the summit, he stood for a long while absorbed in his reflections. The two torch-bearers were at his side; the two marshals stood a little behind them. The emperor's eyes were fixed on the mountains, especially on the Dornberg which he had previously passed.

The mountain lay dark and silent before him--a lonely, sleeping giant.

The emperor raised his arm and pointed at the Dornberg. "The Prussians have left the heights," he said, turning slowly to Marshal Lannes; "they were probably afraid of the cold night-air, and have descended into the valley to sleep. They believe we shall not take advantage of their slumber. But they will be dreadfully mistaken, those old wigs! [Napoleon said: "Ils se tromperent formidablement ces vieux perruques."] As soon as the fog has descended a little post your sharpshooters on the heights of the Dornberg, that they may bid the Prussians good-morning when they want to march up again!"

He turned his eyes again to the gorge; suddenly his eyes flashed fire and seemed to pierce the darkness.

"What is going on in the gorge below?" he asked, hastily.

The torch-bearers lowered their torches; the emperor and the marshals looked anxiously at a long black line moving forward in the middle of the gorge, illuminated here and there by a yellow pale light which seemed to burn in large lanterns.

Napoleon turned with an angry glance to Marshal Lannes. His face was pale--his right shoulder was quivering, a symptom that he was highly incensed. "It is the artillery of your corps," he said. "It has stuck in the gorge! If we cannot get it off, we shall lose tomorrow's battle! Come!"

And he hastened down-hill in so rapid and impetuous a manner that the torch-bearers and marshals were scarcely able to follow him.

Like an apparition, with flashing eyes, with an angry, pale face, his form suddenly emerged from the darkness before the artillerists who vainly tried to move the field-pieces, the wheels of which sank deeply into the sand. The whole column of cannon and caissons behind them had been obliged to halt, and an inextricable confusion would have ensued unless immediate and energetic steps had been taken to open a passage.