sastrous results.

Grouchy had hitherto held no important command. As a cavalry general
he had done brilliant service; but now he was launched on a duty that
called for strategic insight. His force was scarcely equal to the
work. True, it was strong for scouting, having nearly 6,000 light
horse; but the 27,000 footmen of Vandamme's and Gerard's corps had
been exhausted by the deadly strife in the villages and were expecting
a day's rest. Their commanders also resented being placed under
Grouchy. In fact, leaders and men disliked the task, and set about it
in a questioning, grumbling way. The infantry did not start till about
3 o'clock and only reached Gembloux late that evening--nine miles in
six hours! The cavalry, too, was so badly handled by Excelmans around
Gembloux that Thielmann's corps slipped away northward. The rain fell
in torrents, obscuring the view; but it seems strange that the
direction of the Prussian retreat was not surmised until about
nightfall.

Meanwhile, on the French left wing, Ney had been equally lax. He must
have received Napoleon's order to occupy Quatre Bras, "if there was
only a rearguard there," a little before 10 a.m.; but he took no steps
beyond futile skirmishing, and apparently knew not that the British
were slipping away.

About 2 p.m., when the British cavalry was ready to turn rein, the
Duke and Sir H. Vivian saw the glint of cuirasses along the Sombref
road. It was the vanguard of the Emperor's advance. Furious that his
foes were escaping from his clutches, Napoleon had left his carriage
and was pressing on with the foremost horsemen. To Ney he sent an
imperative summons to advance, and when that Marshal came up, greeted
him with the words "You have ruined France." But it was time for
deeds, not words; and he now put forth all his strength. At once he
flung his powerful cavalry at the British rear; and even now it might
have gone hard with Wellington had not the lowering clouds burst in a
deluge of rain. Quickly the road was ploughed up; and the cornfields
became impassable for the French horsemen.

While the pursuers struggled in the mire and aimed wildly through the
pelting haze, the British rearguard raced for safety. Says Captain
Mercer of the artillery: "We galloped for our lives through the storm,
striving to gain the hamlets, Lord Uxbridge urging us on, crying 'Make
haste; for God's sake gallop, or you will be taken.'"[501] Gaining on
the pursuit, they reached Genappe, a