genuine respect for the old noble.

"Permit you what?"

"To return his advice," was the not unexpected reply.

"The thought of me, which is evidently back of your words, sir, inclines
me to overlook their meaning and its impropriety. Know, sir, that I am
always ready," was the grim comment of the ancient soldier.

"Indeed, sir--" began the other, but the Marquis cut him short with an
imperious gesture and a word.

"Retire."

The Major saluted, resumed his place in the line. No one spoke. The
approaching soldiers were nearer now. They were coming. The
Fifth-of-the-Line sensed rather than heard a command down the road. They
saw the guns of that little army come from their shoulders to a slanting
position across the breast--arms aport! It was the habit of the Guard to
go into action at arms aport. What had Dorsenne, _Le Beau Dorsenne_,
said on that famous day? "The Guard fights at the point of the bayonet!"
Would the guns come down to a charge? Would they have to meet bayonet
thrusts from these terrible soldiers?

There was something ominous in the slow movements of the men, picked men
they were, the grenadiers of the Elba Guard especially being of great
size, their huge bearskins towering above them. They were marching in
columns of fours, but the road was wide; another sharp command and the
men with slow yet beautiful precision deployed into a close column of
companies at half distance--the very formation for a charge in mass! The
brass drums were rolling a famous march, "La Grenadiere," the grenadier's
march. The hearts of the Fifth-of-the-Line were keeping time to the
beating of those drums.

Ah, they were splendid soldiers, that regiment of infantry. Even the
youths got something from the veterans. They stood still, quiet, at
parade-rest, staring. The distance was growing shorter, shorter and
shorter. Some of the officers looked toward the Marquis. Even his
nervous horse seemed to have caught the spirit of the moment, for he was
at last still. The old man sat there immobile, his lips pressed, his
eyes fixed on the approaching troops and shining like sword-blades in the
sunlight--horse and man carved, as it were, out of the rock of the
mountains. Presently that high, thin, sharp voice rang out. Men heard
it above the rolling of the drums.

"Attention!" he cried. The men straightened up, swung the heavy muskets
to their sides. "Carry arms." As one man the battalion lifted its
weapons.