In short, there were as many
battles as there are saints in the calendar. And it was proved then that
Napoleon had in his scabbard the real sword of God. He felt regard for
his soldiers, too, and treated them just as if they were his children,
always taking pains to find out if they were well supplied with shoes,
linen, overcoats, bread, and cartridges. But he kept up his dignity as
sovereign all the same; because to reign was his business. However,
that didn't make any difference. A sergeant, or even a common soldier,
could say to him "Emperor," just as you sometimes say "my dear fellow"
to me. He was one that you could argue with, if necessary; he slept on
the snow with the rest of us; and, in short, he appeared almost like any
other man. But when the grape-shot were kicking up the dust at his very
feet, I have seen him going about coolly,--no more disturbed by them
than you are at this minute,--looking through his field-glass now and
then, and attending all the time to his business.
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