hungry and dispirited
when we reached Quatre Bras, about eight o'clock. We were not allowed to
halt here, but marched on to a village called Jemappes, and at midnight
we settled down in a furrow to wait for morning.

The red coats of the English were visible before us when we awoke next
morning; behind their lines was the village of Mont St. Jean, and they
had also the farmhouses of La Haie-Sainte and Hougomont. At six o'clock
I looked at their position, with Zebede, Captain Florentin, and Buche,
and it seemed to me it was a difficult task before us. It was Sunday,
and I could hear the bells of villages, recalling Phalsbourg. But in a
very little while we heard no more bells, for at half-past eight our
battalion was on its way to the high road in front, and the battle of
Waterloo had begun.

_IV.--The Hour of Disaster_

I have often heard veterans describe the order of battle given by the
emperor. But all I remember of that terrible day is that we marched out
with the bands playing, that we got to close quarters with the English,
were repulsed, and were assisted by regiments of cuirassiers, that we
carried La Haie-Sainte with terrible slaughter at Ney's command.
Hougomont we could not carry. When we thought we were winning, the news
was spread that Bluecher, with 60,000 men, was advancing on our flank,
and that unless Grouchy, with his 30,000, arrived in time to reinforce
us the day might be lost.

All the world knows now that Grouchy did not arrive, that we threw
ourselves again and again upon the English squares, and that at last,
when regiment after regiment had tried in vain to break the enemy's
line, the Old Guard were called up by the emperor. It was the last
chance of retrieving the day, the grand stroke--and it failed.

The four battalions of the Guards, reduced from 3,000 to 1,200 men, were
assailed by so fierce a fire that they were compelled to retire. They
retired slowly, defending themselves with muskets and bayonets, but with
their retirement, and the approach of night, the battle ended for us in
the confusion of a rout. It was like a flood. We were surrounded on all
sides when Bluecher arrived. The Old Guard formed a square for the
emperor and his officers, and the rest of us simply straggled away, back
to France. The most awful thing of all was the beating of the drum of
the Old Guard in that hour of disaster. It was like a fire-bell, the
last appeal of a burning nation.

Buche was by my side