but that your old general
will be glad to see you again."

"General d'Auvergne! Where is he now?"

"With the light cavalry brigade, in front; I saw him pass here two hours
since."

"And how looks he, Francois?"

"A little stooped, or so, more than you knew him; but his seat in the
saddle seems just as firm. _Ventrebleu!_ if he 'd been a voltigeur, he
'd be a good man these ten years to come."

Delighted to learn that I was so near my dearest and oldest friend
in the world, I shook Francois's hand, and parted; but not without a
pledge, that whenever I joined the infantry, the Fifth Voltigeurs of the
Line were to have the preference.

As we advanced towards Brienne the distant thunder of large guns was
heard; which gradually grew louder and more sustained, and betokened
that the battle had already begun. The roads, blocked up with dense
masses of infantry and long trains of wagons, prevented our rapid
advance; and when we tried the fields at either side, the soil, cut up
with recent rains, made us sink to the very girths of our horses. Still,
order after order came for the troops to press forward, and every effort
was made to obey the command.

It was five o'clock as we debouched into the plain, and beheld the
fields whereon the battle had been contested; for already the enemy were
retiring, and the French troops in eager pursuit. Behind, however, lay
the town of Brienne, still held by the Russians, but now little
better than a heap of smoking ruins, the tremendous fire of the French
artillery having reduced the place to ashes. Conspicuous above all rose
the dismantled walls of the ancient military college; the school where
Napoleon had learned his first lesson in war, where first he essayed
to point those guns which now with such fearful havoc he turned against
itself. What a strange, sad Subject of contemplation for him who now
gazed on it! On either side, the fire of the artillery continued till
nightfall; but the Russians still held the town. A few straggling shots
closed the combat; and darkness now spread over the wide plain, save
where the watchfires marked out the position of the French troops.

A sudden flash of lurid flame, however, threw its gleam over the town,
and a wild cheer was heard rising above the clatter of musketry. It
was a surprise party of grenadiers, who had forced their way into the
grounds of the old chateau, where Bluecher held his headquarters. Louder
and louder grew the firing, and