personal enemies in it, amounted to a
sort of rage: nay, the very officers who cursed him in their hearts
were among the most frantic to cheer him. Who could refuse his meed of
admiration to such a victory and such a victor? Not he who writes: a
man may profess to be ever so much a philosopher, but he who fought on
that day must feel a thrill of pride as he recalls it.

II

AT THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO[21]

There never was, since the days of Darius, such a brilliant train of
camp-followers as hung round the train of the Duke of Wellington's
army in the Low Countries, in 1815, and led it dancing and feasting,
as it were, up to the very brink of battle. A certain ball[22] which a
noble duchess gave at Brussels on the 15th of June in the above-named
year is historical. All Brussels had been in a state of excitement
about it; and I have heard from ladies who were in that town at the
period, that the talk and interest of persons of their own sex
regarding the ball was much greater even than in respect of the enemy
in their front. The struggles, intrigues, and prayers to get tickets
were such as only English ladies will employ, in order to gain
admission to the society of the great of their own nation.

[Footnote 21: From "Vanity Fair."]

[Footnote 22: Readers will recall Byron's account of this ball in
"Childe Harold."]

Jos and Mrs. O'Dowd, who were panting to be asked, strove in vain to
procure tickets; but others of our friends were more lucky. For
instance, through the interest of my Lord Bareacres, and as a set-off
for the dinner at the restaurateur's, George got a card for Captain
and Mrs. Osborne; which circumstance greatly elated him. Dobbin, who
was a friend of the general commanding the division in which their
regiment was, came laughing one day to Mrs. Osborne, and displayed a
similar invitation; which made Jos envious, and George wonder how the
deuce he should be getting into society. Mr. and Mrs. Rawdon, finally,
were of course invited, as became the friends of a general commanding
a cavalry brigade.

On the appointed night, George, having commanded new dresses and
ornaments of all sorts for Amelia, drove to the famous ball, where his
wife did not know a single soul. After looking about for Lady
Bareacres,--who cut him, thinking the card was quite enough,--and
after placing Amelia on a bench, he left her to her own cogitations
there; thinking on his own part that he had behaved very