g it in that _cul-de-sac_; the slaughter so great
that at ten o'clock at night the bloody work was not completed, most
wonderful of all the successes of the great imperial epic. And Wagram,
where it was the aim of the Austrians to cut us off from the Danube;
they keep strengthening their left in order to overwhelm Massena, who is
wounded and issues his orders from an open carriage, and Napoleon, like
a malicious Titan, lets them go on unchecked; then all at once a hundred
guns vomit their terrible fire upon their weakened center, driving it
backward more than a league, and their left, terror-stricken to find
itself unsupported, gives way before the again victorious Massena,
sweeping away before it the remainder of the army, as when a broken dike
lets loose its torrents upon the fields. And finally the Moskowa,
where the bright sun of Austerlitz shone for the last time; where the
contending hosts were mingled in confused _melee_ amid deeds of the most
desperate daring: mamelons carried under an unceasing fire of musketry,
redoubts stormed with the naked steel, every inch of ground fought over
again and again; such determined resistance on the part of the Russian
Guards that our final victory was only assured by Murat's mad charges,
the concentrated fire of our three hundred pieces of artillery, and the
valor of Ney, who was the hero of that most obstinate of conflicts.
And be the battle what it might, ever our flags floated proudly on the
evening air, and as the bivouac fires were lighted on the conquered
field out rang the old battle-cry: _Vive Napoleon!_ France, carrying her
invincible Eagles from end to end of Europe, seemed everywhere at
home, having but to raise her finger to make her will respected by the
nations, mistress of a world that in vain conspired to crush her and
upon which she set her foot.

Maurice was contentedly finishing his cutlet, cheered not so much by the
wine that sparkled in his glass as by the glorious memories that
were teeming in his brain, when his glance encountered two ragged,
dust-stained soldiers, less like soldiers than weary tramps just off the
road; they were asking the attendant for information as to the position
of the regiments that were encamped along the canal. He hailed them.

"Hallo there, comrades, this way! You are 7th corps men, aren't you?"

"Right you are, sir; 1st division--at least I am, more by token that
I was at Froeschwiller, where it was warm enough, I can tell yo