siers and grenadiers of the Old Guard had
just obeyed the Emperor's last orders which had been to take La Haye
Sainte at all costs: and the intrepid Marechal now, flushed with
victory, had sent his urgent message to Napoleon:

"More troops! and I can yet break through the English centre before the
arrival of the Prussians."

"More troops?" cried the Emperor in despair, "where am I to get them
from? Am I a creator of men?"

And from far away the rumour: "Bluecher and the Prussians are nigh!"

"Stop that rumour from spreading to the ears of our men! In God's name
don't let them know it," adjures Napoleon in a message to Ney.

And he himself sends his own staff officers to every point of the field
of battle to shout and proclaim the news that it is Grouchy who is
nigh, Grouchy with reinforcements, Grouchy with the victorious troops
from Ligny, fresh from conquered laurels!

And the news gives fresh heart to the Imperial troops:

"Vive l'Empereur!" they shout, more certain than ever of victory.

III

The grey day has yielded at last to the kiss of the sun. Far away at
Braine l'Alleud a vivid streak of gold has rent the bank of heavy
clouds. It is now close on seven o'clock--there are two more hours to
nightfall and Bluecher is not yet here.

Some of the Prussians have certainly debouched on Plancenoit, but
Napoleon's Old Guard have turned them out again, and from Limale now
comes the sound of heavy cannonade as if Grouchy had come upon Bluecher
after all and all hopes of reinforcements for the British troops were
finally at an end.

Napoleon--Emperor still and still flushed with victory--looks through
his glasses on the British lines: to him it seems that these are shaken,
that Wellington is fighting with the last of his men. This is the hour
then when victory waits--attentive, ready to bestow her crown on him who
can hold out and fight the longest--on him who at the last can deliver
the irresistible attack.

And Napoleon gives the order for the final attack, which must be more
formidable, more overpowering than any that have gone before. The
plateau of Mont Saint Jean, he commands, must be carried at all costs!

Cuirassiers, lancers and grenadiers, then, once more to the charge!
strew once more the plains of Waterloo with your dying and your dead!
Up, Milhaud, with your guards! Poret with your grenadiers! Michel with
your chasseurs! Up, ye heroes of a dozen campaigns, of a hundred
victories! Up, ye old gr