"Go, then," said she, "fight for the right and your country; and may God
protect you."
Alfred fought valiantly and well, and at last was forced to proceed with
the great French army against Russia. On the way to Moscow the ranks
were greatly depleted, owing to the long, wearisome marches and
privations. After untold hardships and bloodshed, the army at last
reached Moscow, with her many palaces and temples and spires and the old
palace, the Kremlin. It was a pleasing picture. Alfred, like every other
soldier, now hoped to recuperate from the hardships of warfare. But he
found the city uninhabited, the streets deserted, the palaces and houses
empty.
At midnight, a dreadful fire which had been smoldering for several days,
broke out in wild fury and laid the greater part of the city in ashes.
The army was obliged to retreat; and many thousand brave soldiers,
exposed to snow and ice, hunger and cold, met a horrible death. One
single freezing night killed thousands of horses, Alfred's among them.
He was obliged to walk knee deep in icy water.
They traversed miles and miles of country without passing one hut; and
when in the distance a human habitation appeared and gave promise of
warmth and food, they found upon approach that it was deserted and
devoid of everything.
The poor, miserable, weakened soldiers were obliged to spend many a
weary night on the snow-covered ground, with no roof but the sky. The
need of food became more and more imperative each moment; yet if they
had had the wealth of kings, they could not have bought a dry crust of
bread; so they were reduced to the extremity of eating the flesh of
their fallen horses.
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