obby, whose pale face had taken on an ashen hue:

"How you must despise me," he said bitterly.

But Bobby made no reply: he was just longing to be left alone, whilst
the other still seemed inclined to linger.

"Would to God," Maurice said with a sigh, "that M. le Comte heard the
evil news from other lips than mine."

"Evil news?" And Bobby, whom semi-consciousness was already taking off
once more to the land of visions and of dreams--was brought back to
reality--as if with a sudden jerk--with those two preposterous little
words.

"What evil news?" he asked.

"The allied armies have retreated all along the line . . . the Corsican
adventurer is victorious . . . our poor King . . ."

"Hold your tongue, you young fool," cried Bobby hoarsely. "The Lord help
you but I do believe you are about to blaspheme . . ."

"But . . ."

"The Allied Armies--the British Army, God bless it!--have covered
themselves with glory--Napoleon and his Empire have ceased to be. The
Grand Army is in full retreat . . . the Prussians are in pursuit. . . .
The British have won the day by their pluck and their endurance. . . .
Thank God I lived just long enough to see it all, ere I fell . . ."

"But when we charged the cuirassiers . . ." began St. Genis, not knowing
really if Bobby was raving in delirium, or speaking of what he knew. He
wanted to ask further questions, to hear something more before he
started for Brussels . . . the only thing which he remembered with
absolute certainty was that awful charge of his regiment against the
cuirassiers, then the panic and the rout: and he judged the whole issue
of the battle by what had happened to a detachment of Brunswickers.

And yet, of course--before the charge--he had seen and known all that
Bobby told him now. That rush of the Brunswickers and the Dutch down the
hillside was only a part of the huge and glorious charge of the whole of
the Allied troops against the routed Grand Army of Napoleon. He had
neither the physical strength nor the desire to think out all that it
would mean to him personally if what Bobby now told him was indeed
absolutely true.

He was longing to make the wounded man rouse himself just once more and
reiterate the glad news which meant so much to him--Maurice--and to
Crystal. But it was useless to think of that now. Bobby was either
unconscious or asleep. For a moment a twinge of real pity made St.
Genis' heart ache for the man who seemed to be left so lonely and so