nimal, at once he sprang to
his feet, and hurried forward. The column was soon hid from my view, and I
was left to mourn over the seemingly inevitable fate that impended over my
gallant countrymen.

In the intense interest which chained me to this part of the field, I had
not noticed till this moment that the Emperor and his staff were standing
scarcely thirty yards from where I was. Napoleon, seated upon a gray,
almost white, Arabian, had suffered the reins to fall loosely on the neck
as he held with both hands his telescope to his eye; his dress, the usual
green coat with white facings, the uniform of the _chasseurs a cheval_,
was distinguished merely by the cross of the legion; his high boots were
splashed and mud-stained from riding through the deep and clayey soil; his
compact and clean-bred charger looked also slightly blown and heated, but
he himself, and I watched his features well, looked calm, composed, and
tranquil. How anxiously did I scrutinize that face; with what a throbbing
heart did I canvass every gesture, hoping to find some passing trait of
doubt, of difficulty, or of hesitation; but none was there. Unlike one who
looked upon the harrowing spectacle of the battle-field, whose all was
depending on the game before him; gambling with one throw his last his only
stake, and that the empire of the world. Yet, could I picture to myself one
who felt at peace within himself,--naught of reproach, naught of regret to
move or stir his spirit, whose tranquil barque had glided over the calm sea
of life, unruffled by the breath of passion,--I should have fancied such
was he.

Beside him sat one whose flashing eye and changing features looked in every
way his opposite; watching with intense anxiety the scene of the deadly
struggle round the chateau, every look, every gesture told the changing
fortune of the moment; his broad and brawny chest glittered with orders and
decorations, but his heavy brow and lowering look, flushed almost black
with excitement, could not easily be forgotten. It was Soult, who, in his
quality of major-general, accompanied the Emperor throughout the day.

"They have lost it again, Sire," said the marshal, passionately; "and see,
they are forming beneath the cross-fire of the artillery; the head of the
column keeps not its formation two minutes together; why does he not move
up?"

"Domont, you know the British; what troops are those in the orchard? They
use the bayonet well."

The office