Poor Violette, looking as miserable as her master, was led round
and I was told to mount her. My left arm was tied with a thong
which was fastened to the stirrup- iron of a sergeant of
Dragoons. So in most sorry plight I and the remnant of my men
set forth from Minsk.
Never have I met such a brute as this man Sergine, who commanded
the escort. The Russian army contains the best and the worst in
the world, but a worse than Major Sergine of the Dragoons of
Kieff I have never seen in any force outside of the guerillas of
the Peninsula.
He was a man of great stature, with a fierce, hard face and a
bristling black beard, which fell over his cuirass.
I have been told since that he was noted for his strength and his
bravery, and I could answer for it that he had the grip of a
bear, for I had felt it when he tore me from my saddle. He was a
wit, too, in his way, and made continual remarks in Russian at
our expense which set all his Dragoons and Cossacks laughing.
Twice he beat my comrades with his riding-whip, and once he
approached me with the lash swung over his shoulder, but there
was something in my eyes which prevented it from falling.
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