everything that can flatter the vanity and cupidity of man, was present in their imagination. How could they hate us who were the instruments of all this happiness? I therefore repeat, that in the first moments of their joy, they were eager to pay us every possible attention. I was covered with blood, and my wound had not been yet dressed; Colonels Moronzow[1] and Chlebow sent for their surgeons, who were then, as one might expect, very busy. They probed my wound, the bullet had passed through, and torn all the nerves near the artery, at the place where blood is usually let, without, however, injuring, or even touching the bone. I suffered little whilst they were probing and dressing it, and did not expect the torments I was soon after destined to endure. In the meantime, the headquarters were becoming more and more crowded. Among the new arrivals was
- ↑ The same Moronzow was dangerously wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of Raclawice; he was kept at Cracow, and, when passing through that city, I went to pay him a visit.
