d have defied the world in arms, trembled before the new enemy
within him; he saw that his virtue, his honour, his peace, and the
esteem of the wise and the good, were lost to him for ever. In the
bitterness of his heart, he demanded and obtained permission to retire
for a short time into the country. But there he could not regain his
self-respect. Of his distress, and we hope of his repentance, no better
proof need be required than the reply, which, on his return to Paris, he
made to the emperor, who feigned to have believed that he had emigrated:
"I _ought_ to have done so long ago (said Ney); it is now too late."

The prospect of approaching hostilities soon roused once more the
enthusiasm of this gallant soldier, and made him for awhile less
sensible to the gloomy agitation within. From the day of his being
ordered to join the army on the frontiers of Flanders, June 11, his
temper was observed to be less unequal, and his eye to have regained its
fiery glance.

The story of Waterloo need not be repeated here. We shall only observe,
that on no occasion did the Bravest of the Brave exhibit more impetuous
though hopeless valour. Five horses were shot under him; his garments
were pierced with balls; his whole person was disfigured with blood and
mud, yet he would have continued the contest on foot while life
remained, had he not been forced from the field, by the dense and
resistless columns of the fugitives. He returned to the capital, and
there witnessed the second imperial abdication, and the capitulation of
Paris, before he thought of consulting his safety by flight. Perhaps he
hoped that by virtue of the twelfth article of that convention, he
should not be disquieted; if so, however, the royal ordinance of July
24th, terribly undeceived him. He secreted himself with one of his
relatives at the chateau of Bessaris, department of Lot, in the
expectation that he should soon have an opportunity of escaping to the
United States. But he was discovered, and in a very singular manner.

In former days Ney had received a rich Egyptian sabre from the hands of
the First Consul. There was but another like it known to exist, and that
was possessed by Murat. The marshal was carefully secluded both from
visiters and domestics, but unluckily this splendid weapon was left on a
sofa in the drawing-room. It was perceived, and not a little admired by
a visiter, who afterwards described it to a party of friends at
Aurillac. One present