He trampled
with his horse's hoofs on the bodies of the dead, without pity or
regret, and the only thought in his mind was, "As soon as I have done
with Russia, I'll march against the Chinese and the white Arabs; and
then I shall have conquered exactly the whole world."
But just at that moment he heard some one calling, "Napoleonder! O
Napoleonder!" He looked around, and not far away, under a bush on a
little mound, he saw a wounded Russian soldier, who was beckoning to him
with his hand. Napoleonder was surprised. What could a wounded Russian
soldier want of him? He turned his horse and rode to the spot. "What do
you want?" he asked the soldier.
"I don't want anything of you," the wounded soldier replied, "except an
answer to one question. Tell me, please, what have you killed me for?"
Napoleonder was still more surprised. In the many years of his
conquering he had wounded and killed a multitude of men; but he had
never been asked that question before. And yet this Russian soldier
didn't look as if he had anything more than ordinary intelligence.
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