staff-head. There are little tarnished spots of gold
here and there. A close observation discloses that they are golden
bees. In the corners near the staff, the only ones that are left are
golden wreaths in the center of which may be seen the letter "N".

On the other side of the flag, hidden from the beholder, are a series
of names. They have been transcribed upon a silver plate, which is
affixed to the wall below the broken staff. They read as follows:

"Marengo; Ulm; Austerlitz; Jena; Berlin; Eylau; Friedland; Madrid;
Eckmuhl; Wagram; Vienna; Smolensk; Moskowa; Bautzen; Leipsic;
Montmirail; Arcis."

Beneath this list is a heavy dash and below all in larger letters,
which unlike the rest have been filled with black enamel, is the last
word,

"WATERLOO."

The eagle, the staff, and the flag are enclosed and protected from
careless handling by a heavy glass case, the panes set in steel and
silver, and the doors carefully locked to prevent its being stolen
away. But its security is not entrusted to these inanimate materials
alone. Every hour of the day and night there keeps watch over it an
old soldier. He is armed and equipped as if for battle, in the uniform
of the old Fifth Regiment of the Line, somehow temporarily incorporated
in the Imperial Guard as a supplementary regiment of the Grenadiers
thereof. The black gaiters, the white trousers, the blue and scarlet
coat, with its crossed belts and brilliant decorations, the lofty
bearskin head-dress, are all strangely in keeping with the relic and
its surroundings.

Sometimes the soldier--and there are five of them whose sole and only
business it is to watch over the flag--paces steadily up and down in
front of it, like a sentry on his post. Sometimes he stands before it
at parade rest. As to each individual's movements, he suits his fancy.
These are old soldiers, indeed, highly privileged, veterans of twenty
campaigns, fifty pitched battles, and smaller affairs without number.
Their weatherbeaten faces are lined and wrinkled, their mustaches are
as white as snow.

The guard is always relieved at the appointed intervals with military
formality and precision. One soldier, older, taller than the rest, is
in command of the other four. From his buttonhole dangles from a white
ribbon a little cross of white enamel. Though he shows no insignia of
rank higher than that of a Sergeant of the Guard, he has won the proud
distinction of the Legion of Honor.