"General
Bulow! General Bulow!" I shouted, as every stride of the dear
little mare took me nearer my own people. Through the burning
village of Planchenoit I galloped, spurred my way between two
columns of Prussian infantry, sprang over a hedge, cut down a
Silesian Hussar who flung himself before me, and an instant
afterward, with my coat flying open to show the uniform below, I
passed through the open files of the tenth of the line, and was
back in the heart of Lobau's corps once more. Outnumbered and
outflanked, they were being slowly driven in by the pressure of
the Prussian advance. I galloped onward, anxious only to find
myself by the Emperor's side.
But a sight lay before me which held me fast as though I had been
turned into some noble equestrian statue. I could not move, I
could scarce breathe, as I gazed upon it. There was a mound over
which my path lay, and as I came out on the top of it I looked
down the long, shallow valley of Waterloo. I had left it with
two great armies on either side and a clear field between them.
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