s and English to communicate freely with each
other. He also told us that the Prussians said insulting things of the
French army, and were generally hated by the people. When I heard of the
way the Prussians boasted, my blood boiled, and I said to myself, "There
shall be no more compassion. Either they or we must be utterly
destroyed."

I can recall with what splendour the sun rose next morning above a
cornfield--it was the morning of the battle of Ligny. Zebede and one or
two comrades whom I had known in 1813 came and chattered while we lit
our fires. We could see the Prussians before us, posting themselves
behind hedges and walls, and preparing to defend the villages, and all
the time we were kept roasting in the corn, waiting for the signal to
attack. The emperor arrived, and held a short conference with the
superior officers, and I saw him at close quarters before he rode off
again to the village of Fleurus, already vacated by the Prussians.

And still we waited, though we knew the attack on St. Amand had begun.

At last came our turn to advance on Ligny. "Forward! Forward!" cried the
officers. "Vive l'Empereur!" we shouted. The Prussian bullets whizzed
like hail upon us, and then we could see or hear nothing till we were in
the village.

No quarter was given that day; we fought in houses and gardens, in barns
and lanes, with muskets and bayonets. Those who fell were lost. At one
time fifteen of us were in possession of a barn, and the Prussians, for
a time outnumbering us, drove us up a ladder. They fired up at our
floor, and finally, when it seemed we were lost, and were all to be
massacred we heard the shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the Prussians
fled. Out of that fifteen only six were left alive, but Zebede and Buche
were among the survivors.

The battle still raged in the village streets, dead and dying were
everywhere. Towards nightfall it was plain we were the victors; Ligny
and St. Amand were in our hands, and the Prussians had moved away. On
the plateau behind Ligny, where our cavalry had been at work, the
slaughter had been terrible.

The dozen or so remaining of our company rested for a few hours that
night in the ruins of a farmhouse, and next day came the roll-call of
our battalion, and the sending off of the wounded. More than 360 of our
men, including Commandant Gemeau and Captain Vidal, were disabled, and
we were busy all day over the wounded.

It was wet and muddy that evening, and we were