A minute passed, and another, and another. My heart
was in my mouth.
They swayed back and forward; they no longer advanced; they were
held. Great Heaven! was it possible that they were breaking?
One black dot ran down the hill, then two, then four, then ten,
then a great, scattered, struggling mass, halting, breaking,
halting, and at last shredding out and rushing madly downward.
"The Guard is beaten! The Guard is beaten!" From all around me
I heard the cry. Along the whole line the infantry turned their
faces and the gunners flinched from their guns.
"The Old Guard is beaten! The Guard retreats!" An officer with
a livid face passed me yelling out these words of woe. "Save
yourselves! Save yourselves! You are betrayed!" cried another.
"Save yourselves! Save yourselves!" Men were rushing madly to
the rear, blundering and jumping like frightened sheep. Cries
and screams rose from all around me. And at that moment, as I
looked at the British position, I saw what I can never forget. A
single horseman stood out black and clear upon the ridge against
the last red angry glow of the setting sun.
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