de,
whose uniforms and equipments, notwithstanding every effort to
conceal it, showed the terrible effects of the great battle. General
d'Auvergne's division, with the hussars and the light cavalry attached,
followed. These were succeeded by the voltigeurs, and eight battalions
of the Imperial Guard,--whose ranks were closed up with the _Grenadiers
a cheval_, and more artillery,--in all, a force of eighteen thousand,
the _elite_ of the French army.

Advancing in orderly time, they came,--no sound heard save the dull
reverberation of the earth as it trembled beneath the columns, when
the hoarse challenge to "halt" was called from rank to rank as often as
those in the rear pressed on the leading files; but as they reached the
Brandenburg gate, the band of each regiment burst forth, and the wide
Platz resounded with the clang of martial music.

In front of the palace stood the Emperor, surrounded by his staff, which
was joined in succession by each general of brigade as his corps moved
by. A simple acknowledgment of the military salute was all Napoleon gave
as each battalion passed,--until the small party of the Imperial Guard
appeared, bearing the captured colors. Then his proud features relaxed,
his eye flashed and sparkled, and he lifted his chapeau straight above
his head, and remained uncovered the whole time they were marching past.
This was the moment when enthusiasm could no longer be restrained, and a
cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" burst forth, that, caught up by those behind,
rose in ten thousand echoes along the distant suburbs of Berlin.

To look upon that glorious and glittering band, bronzed with battle,
their proud faces lit up with all the pride of victory, was indeed a
triumph; and one instinctively turned to see the looks of wondering
and admiration such a sight must have inspired. But with what sense of
sadness came the sudden thought: this is the proud exultation of the
conqueror over the conquered; here come no happy faces and bright looks
to welcome those who have rescued them from slavery; here are no voices
calling welcome to the deliverer. No: it was a people crushed and
trodden down; their hard-won laurels tarnished and dishonored; their
country enslaved; their monarch a wanderer, no one knew where. Little
thought they who raised the statue of brass to the memory of the Great
Frederick, that the clank of French musketry would be heard around it.
Rossbach was, indeed, avenged,--and cruelly avenged.