Our reserve units were able to join up, and the fight was at an end.

The regimental commander and Major Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the commander's stirrup, almost leaning against him.

The man was wearing a bluish coat of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, his head was bandaged, and over his shoulder a French munition pouch was slung.

He had an officer's sword in his hand.

The soldier was pale, his blue eyes looked impudently into the commander's face, and his lips were smiling.