So Moscow was empty when Napoleon, weary, restless, and scowling, paced back and forth by the Kamerkollezhsky rampart, awaiting what to his mind was a necessary, though external, observance of propriety--a deputation.
In various corners of Moscow a few people still stirred meaninglessly, keeping to old habits and not understanding what they were doing.
from page 335-336, volume 2 of original text
collage, ink, dried flower
Pevear/Volokhonksy translation page 873-875