During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen (his “bridge” in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when Prince Volkónski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his opinion, he merely said:

“Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position with an exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman’s attack⁠—very fine, or a retreat, also good! Why ask me?” said he. “Why, you yourselves know everything better than I do.”

But when Volkónski said, with a frown, that it was in the Emperor’s name that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly growing animated, began to speak:

“Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody thought they knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How mend matters? There is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me must be strictly adhered to,” said he, drumming on the table with his bony fingers. “What is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!”