in a
dozen victorious campaigns--men who had no longer anything to lose but
life, and to whom life meant less than nothing now--against them a
handful of half-trained recruits, drunk with the cry of "Victory" which
drowned the roar of the cannon and the clash of sabres, drunk with the
vision of glory which awaited them if that defiant eagle were brought to
earth by them!

And as Bobby staggered to his feet he already saw the impending
catastrophe--one of the many on this day of cumulative disasters. He saw
the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers rush wildly to the
charge--young men--enthusiasts--brave--but men whose ranks had twice
been broken to-day--who twice had rallied to their colours and then had
broken again--men who were exhausted--men who were none too ably
led--men in fact--and there were many French royalists among their
officers--who had not the physical power of endurance which had enabled
the British to astonish the world to-day.

Bobby could see amongst them the Brunswickers and their black coats--he
would have known them amongst millions of men. The full brilliance of
the evening glow was upon them--on their black coats and the silver
galoons and tassels; two of their officers had made a brave show in
Brussels three days--or was it a hundred years?--ago at the Duchess of
Richmond's ball. Bobby remembered them so well, for one of these two
officers was Maurice de St. Genis.

Oh! how Crystal would love to see him now--even though her dear heart
would be torn with anxiety for him--for he was fighting bravely, bravely
and desperately as every one had fought to-day, as these chasseurs of
the Old Guard--just the few of them that remained--were fighting still
even at this hour round that tattered flag and that bronze eagle, and
with the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" dying upon their lips.

Despair indeed on both sides--even at this hour when the merest incident
might yet turn the issue of this world-conflict one way or the other.
Bobby, as he steadied himself on his feet, had seen that the attack was
already turning into a rout. Not only had Pelet's chasseurs held the
Dutch and Brunswickers at bay, not only had their tirailleurs made
deadly havoc among their assailants, but the latter now were threatened
with absolute annihilation even whilst all around them their
allies--British and Prussian--were crying "Victory!"

Bobby could see them quite clearly--for he saw with that subtle and
delicate sense wh