n enters.]

WOMAN

There's no sign of my husband any longer. His battalion is half-a-
mile from where it was. He looked back as they wheeled off towards
the fighting-line, as much as to say, "Nancy, if I don't see 'ee
again, this is good-bye, my dear." Yes, poor man!... Not but
what 'a had a temper at times!

SECOND WOMAN

I'm out of all that. My husband--as I used to call him for form's
sake--is quiet enough. He was wownded at Quarter-Brass the day
before yesterday, and died the same night. But I didn't know it
till I got here, and then says I, "Widder or no widder, I mean to
see this out."

[A sergeant staggers in with blood dropping from his face.]

SERGEANT

Damned if I think you will see it out, mis'ess, for if I don't
mistake there'll be a retreat of the whole army on Brussels soon.
We can't stand much longer!--For the love of God, have ye got a
cup of water, if nothing stronger? [They hand a cup.]

THIRD WOMAN [entering and sinking down]

The Lord send that I may never see again what I've been seeing while
looking for my poor galliant Joe! The surgeon asked me to lend a
hand; and 'twas worse than opening innerds at a pig-killing! [She
faints.]

FOURTH WOMAN [to a little girl]

Never mind her, my dear; come and help me with this one. [She goes
with the girl to a soldier in red with buff facings who lies some
distance off.] Ah--'tis no good. He's gone.

GIRL

No, mother. His eyes are wide open, a-staring to get a sight of
the battle!

FOURTH WOMAN

That's nothing. Lots of dead ones stare in that silly way. It
depends upon where they were hit. I was all through the Peninsula;
that's how I know. [She covers the horny gaze of the man. Shouts
and louder discharges are heard.]--Heaven's high tower, what's that?

[Enter an officer's servant.[24]]

SERVANT

Waiting with the major's spare hoss--up to my knees in mud from
the rain that had come down like baccy-pipe stems all the night
and morning--I have just seen a charge never beholded since the
days of the Amalekites! The squares still stand, but Ney's cavalry
have made another attack. Their swords are streaming with blood,
and their horses' hoofs squash out our poor fellow's bowels as they
lie. A ball has sunk in Sir Thomas Picton's forehead and killed him
like Goliath the Philistine. I don't see what's to stop t