ble strains as he, and Nature was having her revenge. But for
that week in February and for a time thereafter there was a strange and
marvelous return of the Emperor's physical powers.

He had sustained more fatigue than any man in the army, because to all
of the personal sufferings of the march in the long day and the
sleepless night and the conduct of the battle had been added
responsibility, but he was as fresh as a boy. His pale cheek showed
rare color; his eyes sparkled; his voice was clear and sharp. The
nervous twitching of his mouth ceased. The gray look vanished. He was
once more the boyish Captain of the Army of Italy, at whom the huge
grenadiers laughed and the gray-headed veterans marveled.

The Emperor's scouts had been hard at work during the day. They were
constantly coming and going at his headquarters at Champaubert with
detailed accounts of the situation of the Russians and the Prussians.
The Emperor had a momentous decision to make. From the position he had
gained it was equally as easy for him to strike east as to strike west.
He decided at last to strike west, realizing that no captain, much less
fiery old Bluecher, without an absolute forfeiture of his reputation as
a soldier could afford to leave his van unsupported, but that the
Prussian Field Marshal must advance to its support. If the Emperor's
plans worked out, he could destroy that van, and then turn back and
mete out the same fate to the main body coming to its rescue.

Just about ten miles away to the westward, on the main road to Paris by
way of La Ferte-sous-Jouarre, lay the village of Montmirail. As many
miles beyond Montmirail, on the same Paris road, Sacken, with twenty
thousand men, had been advancing. From Montmirail a road led northward
to Chateau Thierry and the crossing of the Marne, behind which
Macdonald had been driven by Yorck, with perhaps fifteen thousand more.
The Emperor decided to seize Montmirail, throw out a corps to hold back
Yorck on the northern road, while he crushed Sacken on the other with
the remainder of the army, except one corps, which he would leave at
Champaubert to delay Bluecher's advance. These army corps were in
reality nothing more than weak divisions, less than seven thousand
strong.

Early in the afternoon Marteau, with old Bullet-Stopper and the little
squadron of Maurice's cavalry, had rejoined the Emperor. He had been
greatly refreshed by his night's sleep. He had taken advantage of