When last I saw them, the English guns, six at a time, were
smashing grape-shot through their ranks and the English infantry
were closing in upon three sides and pouring volleys into them;
but still, like a noble lion with fierce hounds clinging to its
flanks, the glorious remnant of the Guard, marching slowly,
halting, closing up, dressing, moved majestically from their last
battle. Behind them the Guard's battery of twelve- pounders was
drawn up upon the ridge. Every gunner was in his place, but no
gun fired. "Why do you not fire?" I asked the colonel as I
passed. "Our powder is finished." "Then why not retire?" "Our
appearance may hold them back for a little. We must give the
Emperor time to escape." Such were the soldiers of France.
Behind this screen of brave men the others took their breath, and
then went on in less desperate fashion. They had broken away
from the road, and all over the countryside in the twilight I
could see the timid, scattered, frightened crowd who ten hours
before had formed the finest army that ever went down to battle.
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