not been
able to obey General Marchand's orders and destroy the bridge of
Ponthaut--his desire to communicate once more with the General; his
decision to await further orders and in the meanwhile to occupy the
narrow defile of Laffray as being an advantageous position wherein to
oppose the advance of the ogre: all this on the one side.

On the other, the advance of the Polish Lancers, of the carts and wagons
wherein are crowded the soldiers of the Old Guard, and Napoleon himself,
the great gambler, sitting in his coach gazing out through the open
windows at the fair land of France, the peaceful valley on his left, the
chain of ice-covered lakes and the turbulent Drac; on his right beyond
the hills frowning Taillefer, snow-capped and pine-clad, and far ahead
Grenoble still hidden from his view as the future too was still
hidden--the mysterious gate beyond which lay glory and an Empire or the
ignominy of irretrievable failure.

History has made a record of it all, and it is not the purpose of this
true chronicle to do more than recall with utmost brevity the chief
incident of that memorable encounter, the Polish Lancers galloping back
with the report that the narrow pass was held against them in strong
force: the Old Guard climbing helter-skelter out of carts and wagons,
examining their arms, making ready: Napoleon stepping quickly out of his
coach and mounting his charger.

On the other side Delessart holding hurried consultation with the
Vicomte de St. Genis whom General Marchand has despatched to him with
orders to shoot the brigand and his horde as he would a pack of wolves.

Napoleon is easily recognisable in the distance, with his grey overcoat,
his white horse and his bicorne hat; presently he dismounts and walks up
and down across the narrow road, evidently in a state of great mental
agitation.

Delessart's men are sullen and silent; a crowd of men and women from
Grenoble have followed them up thus far; they work their way in and out
among the infantrymen: they have printed leaflets in their hands which
they cram one by one into the hands or pockets of the soldiers--copies
of Napoleon's proclamation.

Now an officer of the Old Guard is seen to ride up the pass. Delessart
recognises him. They were brothers in arms two years ago and served
together under the greatest military genius the world has ever known.
Napoleon has sent the man on as an emissary, but Delessart will not
allow him to speak.

"I mean to