e Gerard, who was to
turn them into deeds. I burned to reach the Marshal, and for an instant
I thought of riding through the English left wing, as being the shortest
cut. I have done bolder deeds and come out safely, but I reflected that
if things went badly with me and I was taken or shot the message would
be lost and the plans of the Emperor miscarry. I passed in front of the
cavalry, therefore, past the Chasseurs, the Lancers of the Guard, the
Carabineers, the Horse Grenadiers, and, lastly, my own little rascals,
who followed me wistfully with their eyes. Beyond the cavalry the Old
Guard was standing, twelve regiments of them, all veterans of many
battles, sombre and severe, in long blue overcoats and high bearskins
from which the plumes had been removed. Each bore within the goatskin
knapsack upon his back the blue and white parade uniform which they
would use for their entry into Brussels next day. As I rode past them I
reflected that these men had never been beaten, and as I looked at
their weather-beaten faces and their stern and silent bearing, I said to
myself that they never would be beaten. Great heavens, how little could
I foresee what a few more hours would bring!

On the right of the Old Guard were the Young Guard and the 6th Corps of
Lobau, and then I passed Jacquinot's Lancers and Marbot's Hussars, who
held the extreme flank of the line. All these troops knew nothing of the
corps which was coming toward them through the wood, and their attention
was taken up in watching the battle which raged upon their left. More
than a hundred guns were thundering from each side, and the din was so
great that of all the battles which I have fought I cannot recall more
than half-a-dozen which were as noisy. I looked back over my shoulder,
and there were two brigades of Cuirassiers, English and French, pouring
down the hill together, with the sword-blades playing over them like
summer lightning. How I longed to turn Violette, and to lead my Hussars
into the thick of it! What a picture! Etienne Gerard with his back to
the battle, and a fine cavalry action raging behind him.

But duty is duty, so I rode past Marbot's vedettes and on in the
direction of the wood, passing the village of Frishermont upon my left.

In front of me lay the great wood, called the Wood of Paris, consisting
mostly of oak trees, with a few narrow paths leading through it. I
halted and listened when I reached it, but out of its gloomy depths
there