Chapter XXXII: In Which Jos Takes Flight, and the War Is Brought to a Close

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　We of peaceful London City have never beheld--andplease God never shall witness--such a scene of hurryand alarm, as that which Brussels presented. Crowdsrushed to the Namur gate, from which direction the noiseproceeded, and many rode along the level chaussee, tobe in advance of any intelligence from the army. Eachman asked his neighbour for news; and even greatEnglish lords and ladies condescended to speak to personswhom they did not know. The friends of the French wentabroad, wild with excitement, and prophesying thetriumph of their Emperor. The merchants closed theirshops, and came out to swell the general chorus of alarmand clamour. Women rushed to the churches, andcrowded the chapels, and knelt and prayed on the flagsand steps. The dull sound of the cannon went on rolling,rolling. Presently carriages with travellers began to leavethe town, galloping away by the Ghent barrier. Theprophecies of the French partisans began to pass forfacts. "He has cut the armies in two," it was said. "He ismarching straight on Brussels. He will overpower theEnglish, and be here to-night." "He will overpower theEnglish," shrieked Isidor to his master, "and will be hereto-night." The man bounded in and out from the lodgingsto the street, always returning with some fresh particularsof disaster. Jos's face grew paler and paler. Alarm beganto take entire possession of the stout civilian. All thechampagne he drank brought no courage to him. Beforesunset he was worked up to such a pitch of nervousnessas gratified his friend Isidor to behold, who now countedsurely upon the spoils of the owner of the laced coat.

　　The women were away all this time. After hearingthe firing for a moment, the stout Major's wife bethoughther of her friend in the next chamber, and ran in to watch,and if possible to console, Amelia. The idea that she hadthat helpless and gentle creature to protect, gaveadditional strength to the natural courage of the honestIrishwoman. She passed five hours by her friend's side,sometimes in remonstrance, sometimes talking cheerfully,oftener in silence and terrified mental supplication. "Inever let go her hand once," said the stout ladyafterwards, "until after sunset, when the firing was over."Pauline, the bonne, was on her knees at church hard by,praying for son homme a elle.

　　When the noise of the cannonading was over, Mrs.O'Dowd issued out of Amelia's room into the parlouradjoining, where Jos sate with two emptied flasks, andcourage entirely gone. Once or twice he had ventured intohis sister's bedroom, looking very much alarmed, andas if he would say something. But the Major's wife kepther place, and he went away without disburtheninghimself of his speech. He was ashamed to tell her that hewanted to fly.

　　But when she made her appearance in the dining-room,where he sate in the twilight in the cheerless companyof his empty champagne bottles, he began to open hismind to her.

　　"Mrs. O'Dowd," he said, "hadn't you better get Ameliaready?"

　　"Are you going to take her out for a walk?" said theMajor's lady; "sure she's too weak to stir."

　　"I--I've ordered the carriage," he said, "and--andpost-horses; Isidor is gone for them," Jos continued.

　　"What do you want with driving to-night?" answeredthe lady. "Isn't she better on her bed? I've just got herto lie down."

　　"Get her up," said Jos; "she must get up, I say": andhe stamped his foot energetically. "I say the horses areordered--yes, the horses are ordered. It's all over, and--"

　　"And what?" asked Mrs. O'Dowd.

　　"I'm off for Ghent," Jos answered. "Everybody isgoing; there's a place for you! We shall start in half-an-hour."

　　The Major's wife looked at him with infinite scorn. "Idon't move till O'Dowd gives me the route," said she."You may go if you like, Mr. Sedley; but, faith, Ameliaand I stop here."

　　"She shall go," said Jos, with another stamp of hisfoot. Mrs. O'Dowd put herself with arms akimbo beforethe bedroom door.

　　"Is it her mother you're going to take her to?" shesaid; "or do you want to go to Mamma yourself, Mr.Sedley? Good marning--a pleasant journey to ye, sir.Bon voyage, as they say, and take my counsel, and shaveoff them mustachios, or they'll bring you into mischief."

　　"D--n!" yelled out Jos, wild with fear, rage, andmortification; and Isidor came in at this juncture, swearing inhis turn. "Pas de chevaux, sacre bleu!" hissed out thefurious domestic. All the horses were gone. Jos wasnot the only man in Brussels seized with panic that day.

　　But Jos's fears, great and cruel as they were already,were destined to increase to an almost frantic pitchbefore the night was over. It has been mentioned howPauline, the bonne, had son homme a elle also in theranks of the army that had gone out to meet the EmperorNapoleon. This lover was a native of Brussels, and aBelgian hussar. The troops of his nation signalisedthemselves in this war for anything but courage, and youngVan Cutsum, Pauline's admirer, was too good a soldierto disobey his Colonel's orders to run away. Whilst ingarrison at Brussels young Regulus (he had been born inthe revolutionary times) found his great comfort, andpassed almost all his leisure moments, in Pauline'skitchen; and it was with pockets and holsters crammedfull of good things from her larder, that he had takeleave of his weeping sweetheart, to proceed upon thecampaign a few days before.

　　As far as his regiment was concerned, this campaignwas over now. They had formed a part of the divisionunder the command of his Sovereign apparent, the Princeof Orange, and as respected length of swords andmustachios, and the richness of uniform and equipments,Regulus and his comrades looked to be as gallant a bodyof men as ever trumpet sounded for.

　　When Ney dashed upon the advance of the alliedtroops, carrying one position after the other, until thearrival of the great body of the British army fromBrussels changed the aspect of the combat of Quatre Bras,the squadrons among which Regulus rode showed thegreatest activity in retreating before the French, and weredislodged from one post and another which they occupiedwith perfect alacrity on their part. Their movementswere only checked by the advance of the British in theirrear. Thus forced to halt, the enemy's cavalry (whosebloodthirsty obstinacy cannot be too severelyreprehended) had at length an opportunity of coming to closequarters with the brave Belgians before them; whopreferred to encounter the British rather than the French,and at once turning tail rode through the Englishregiments that were behind them, and scattered in alldirections. The regiment in fact did not exist any more. It wasnowhere. It had no head-quarters. Regulus found himselfgalloping many miles from the field of action, entirelyalone; and whither should he fly for refuge so naturallyas to that kitchen and those faithful arms in whichPauline had so often welcomed him?

　　At some ten o'clock the clinking of a sabre might havebeen heard up the stair of the house where the Osbornesoccupied a story in the continental fashion. A knockmight have been heard at the kitchen door; and poorPauline, come back from church, fainted almost withterror as she opened it and saw before her her haggardhussar. He looked as pale as the midnight dragoon whocame to disturb Leonora. Pauline would have screamed,but that her cry would have called her masters, anddiscovered her friend. She stifled her scream, then, andleading her hero into the kitchen, gave him beer, andthe choice bits from the dinner, which Jos had not hadthe heart to taste. The hussar showed he was no ghost bythe prodigious quantity of flesh and beer which hedevoured--and during the mouthfuls he told his tale ofdisaster.

　　His regiment had performed prodigies of courage, andhad withstood for a while the onset of the whole Frencharmy. But they were overwhelmed at last, as was thewhole British army by this time. Ney destroyed eachregiment as it came up. The Belgians in vain interposed toprevent the butchery of the English. The Brunswickerswere routed and had fled--their Duke was killed. It wasa general debacle. He sought to drown his sorrow forthe defeat in floods of beer.

　　Isidor, who had come into the kitchen, heard theconversation and rushed out to inform his master. "It isall over," he shrieked to Jos. "Milor Duke is a prisoner;the Duke of Brunswick is killed; the British army is infull flight; there is only one man escaped, and he is in thekitchen now--come and hear him." So Jos tottered intothat apartment where Regulus still sate on the kitchentable, and clung fast to his flagon of beer. In the bestFrench which he could muster, and which was in soothof a very ungrammatical sort, Jos besought the hussar totell his tale. The disasters deepened as Regulus spoke. Hewas the only man of his regiment not slain on the field.He had seen the Duke of Brunswick fall, the blackhussars fly, the Ecossais pounded down by the cannon."And the --th?" gasped Jos.

　　"Cut in pieces," said the hussar--upon which Paulinecried out, "O my mistress, ma bonne petite dame," wentoff fairly into hysterics, and filled the house with herscreams.

　　Wild with terror, Mr. Sedley knew not how or whereto seek for safety. He rushed from the kitchen back tothe sitting-room, and cast an appealing look at Amelia'sdoor, which Mrs. O'Dowd had closed and locked in hisface; but he remembered how scornfully the latter hadreceived him, and after pausing and listening for a briefspace at the door, he left it, and resolved to go into thestreet, for the first time that day. So, seizing a candle, helooked about for his gold-laced cap, and found it lying in itsusual place, on a console-table, in the anteroom, placedbefore a mirror at which Jos used to coquet, alwaysgiving his side-locks a twirl, and his cap the proper cockover his eye, before he went forth to make appearance inpublic. Such is the force of habit, that even in the midstof his terror he began mechanically to twiddle with hishair, and arrange the cock of his hat. Then he lookedamazed at the pale face in the glass before him, andespecially at his mustachios, which had attained a richgrowth in the course of near seven weeks, since they hadcome into the world. They will mistake me for a militaryman, thought he, remembering Isidor's warning asto the massacre with which all the defeated British armywas threatened; and staggering back to his bedchamber,he began wildly pulling the bell which summoned hisvalet.

　　Isidor answered that summons. Jos had sunk in a chair--he had torn off his neckcloths, and turned down hiscollars, and was sitting with both his hands lifted to histhroat.

　　"Coupez-moi, Isidor," shouted he; "vite! Coupez-moi!"

　　Isidor thought for a moment he had gone mad, andthat he wished his valet to cut his throat.

　　"Les moustaches," gasped Joe; "les moustaches--coupy, rasy, vite!"--his French was of this sort--voluble,as we have said, but not remarkable for grammar.

　　Isidor swept off the mustachios in no time with therazor, and heard with inexpressible delight his master'sorders that he should fetch a hat and a plain coat. "Neporty ploo--habit militair--bonn--bonny a voo, prennydehors"--were Jos's words--the coat and cap were atlast his property.

　　This gift being made, Jos selected a plain black coatand waistcoat from his stock, and put on a large whiteneckcloth, and a plain beaver. If he could have got ashovel hat he would have worn it. As it was, you wouldhave fancied he was a flourishing, large parson of theChurch of England.

　　"Venny maintenong," he continued, "sweevy--ally--party--dong la roo." And so having said, he plungedswiftly down the stairs of the house, and passed into thestreet.

　　Although Regulus had vowed that he was the onlyman of his regiment or of the allied army, almost, whohad escaped being cut to pieces by Ney, it appearedthat his statement was incorrect, and that a good numbermore of the supposed victims had survived the massacre.Many scores of Regulus's comrades had found their wayback to Brussels, and all agreeing that they had runaway--filled the whole town with an idea of the defeatof the allies. The arrival of the French was expectedhourly; the panic continued, and preparations for flightwent on everywhere. No horses! thought Jos, in terror.He made Isidor inquire of scores of persons, whetherthey had any to lend or sell, and his heart sank withinhim, at the negative answers returned everywhere. Shouldhe take the journey on foot? Even fear could not renderthat ponderous body so active.

　　Almost all the hotels occupied by the English in Brusselsface the Parc, and Jos wandered irresolutely aboutin this quarter, with crowds of other people, oppressed ashe was by fear and curiosity. Some families he saw morehappy than himself, having discovered a team of horses,and rattling through the streets in retreat; others againthere were whose case was like his own, and whocould not for any bribes or entreaties procure thenecessary means of flight. Amongst these would-be fugitives,Jos remarked the Lady Bareacres and her daughter, whosate in their carriage in the porte-cochere of their hotel,all their imperials packed, and the only drawback towhose flight was the same want of motive power whichkept Jos stationary.

　　Rebecca Crawley occupied apartments in this hotel;and had before this period had sundry hostile meetingswith the ladies of the Bareacres family. My LadyBareacres cut Mrs. Crawley on the stairs when they metby chance; and in all places where the latter's name wasmentioned, spoke perseveringly ill of her neighbour. TheCountess was shocked at the familiarity of General Tuftowith the aide-de-camp's wife. The Lady Blanche avoidedher as if she had been an infectious disease. Only theEarl himself kept up a sly occasional acquaintance withher, when out of the jurisdiction of his ladies.

　　Rebecca had her revenge now upon these insolentenemies. If became known in the hotel that CaptainCrawley's horses had been left behind, and when thepanic began, Lady Bareacres condescended to send hermaid to the Captain's wife with her Ladyship's compliments,and a desire to know the price of Mrs. Crawley'shorses. Mrs. Crawley returned a note with her compliments,and an intimation that it was not her custom totransact bargains with ladies' maids.

　　This curt reply brought the Earl in person to Becky'sapartment; but he could get no more success than thefirst ambassador. "Send a lady's maid to me!" Mrs.Crawley cried in great anger; "why didn't my LadyBareacres tell me to go and saddle the horses! Is it herLadyship that wants to escape, or her Ladyship's femmede chambre?" And this was all the answer that the Earlbore back to his Countess.

　　What will not necessity do? The Countess herselfactually came to wait upon Mrs. Crawley on the failureof her second envoy. She entreated her to name her ownprice; she even offered to invite Becky to BareacresHouse, if the latter would but give her the means ofreturning to that residence. Mrs. Crawley sneered at her.

　　"I don't want to be waited on by bailiffs in livery," shesaid; "you will never get back though most probably--at least not you and your diamonds together. The Frenchwill have those They will be here in two hours, and Ishall be half way to Ghent by that time. I would not sellyou my horses, no, not for the two largest diamonds thatyour Ladyship wore at the ball." Lady Bareacres trembledwith rage and terror. The diamonds were sewed into herhabit, and secreted in my Lord's padding and boots."Woman, the diamonds are at the banker's, and I willhave the horses," she said. Rebecca laughed in her face.The infuriate Countess went below, and sate in hercarriage; her maid, her courier, and her husband were sentonce more through the town, each to look for cattle; andwoe betide those who came last! Her Ladyship wasresolved on departing the very instant the horses arrivedfrom any quarter--with her husband or without him.

　　Rebecca had the pleasure of seeing her Ladyship inthe horseless carriage, and keeping her eyes fixed uponher, and bewailing, in the loudest tone of voice, theCountess's perplexities. "Not to be able to get horses!"she said, "and to have all those diamonds sewed into thecarriage cushions! What a prize it will be for the Frenchwhen they come!--the carriage and the diamonds, I mean;not the lady!" She gave this information to the landlord,to the servants, to the guests, and the innumerablestragglers about the courtyard. Lady Bareacres could haveshot her from the carriage window.

　　It was while enjoying the humiliation of her enemy thatRebecca caught sight of Jos, who made towards herdirectly he perceived her.

　　That altered, frightened, fat face, told his secret wellenough. He too wanted to fly, and was on the look-outfor the means of escape. "He shall buy my horses,"thought Rebecca, "and I'll ride the mare."

　　Jos walked up to his friend, and put the question forthe hundredth time during the past hour, "Did she knowwhere horses were to be had?"

　　"What, you fly?" said Rebecca, with a laugh. "Ithought you were the champion of all the ladies, Mr.Sedley."

　　"I--I'm not a military man," gasped he.

　　"And Amelia?--Who is to protect that poor little sisterof yours?" asked Rebecca. "You surely would not deserther?"

　　"What good can I do her, suppose--suppose the enemyarrive?" Jos answered. "They'll spare the women; but myman tells me that they have taken an oath to give noquarter to the men--the dastardly cowards."

　　"Horrid!" cried Rebecca, enjoying his perplexity.

　　"Besides, I don't want to desert her," cried the brother."She shan't be deserted. There is a seat for her in mycarriage, and one for you, dear Mrs. Crawley, if you willcome; and if we can get horses--" sighed he--

　　"I have two to sell," the lady said. Jos could haveflung himself into her arms at the news. "Get the carriage,Isidor," he cried; "we've found them--we have foundthem."

　　My horses never were in harness," added the lady."Bullfinch would kick the carriage to pieces, if you puthim in the traces."

　　"But he is quiet to ride?" asked the civilian.

　　"As quiet as a lamb, and as fast as a hare," answeredRebecca.

　　"Do you think he is up to my weight?" Jos said. Hewas already on his back, in imagination, without ever somuch as a thought for poor Amelia. What person wholoved a horse-speculation could resist such a temptation?

　　In reply, Rebecca asked him to come into her room,whither he followed her quite breathless to conclude thebargain. Jos seldom spent a half-hour in his life whichcost him so much money. Rebecca, measuring the valueof the goods which she had for sale by Jos's eagerness topurchase, as well as by the scarcity of the article, putupon her horses a price so prodigious as to make eventhe civilian draw back. "She would sell both or neither,"she said, resolutely. Rawdon had ordered her not to partwith them for a price less than that which she specified.Lord Bareacres below would give her the same money--and with all her love and regard for the Sedley family,her dear Mr. Joseph must conceive that poor people mustlive--nobody, in a word, could be more affectionate, butmore firm about the matter of business.

　　Jos ended by agreeing, as might be supposed of him.The sum he had to give her was so large that he wasobliged to ask for time; so large as to be a little fortuneto Rebecca, who rapidly calculated that with this sum,and the sale of the residue of Rawdon's effects, and herpension as a widow should he fall, she would now beabsolutely independent of the world, and might look herweeds steadily in the face.

　　Once or twice in the day she certainly had herselfthought about flying. But her reason gave her bettercounsel. "Suppose the French do come," thought Becky,"what can they do to a poor officer's widow? Bah! thetimes of sacks and sieges are over. We shall be let to gohome quietly, or I may live pleasantly abroad with a snuglittle income."

　　Meanwhile Jos and Isidor went off to the stables toinspect the newly purchased cattle. Jos bade his mansaddle the horses at once. He would ride away that verynight, that very hour. And he left the valet busy in gettingthe horses ready, and went homewards himself toprepare for his departure. It must be secret. He would go tohis chamber by the back entrance. He did not care to faceMrs. O'Dowd and Amelia, and own to them that he wasabout to run.

　　By the time Jos's bargain with Rebecca was completed,and his horses had been visited and examined, it wasalmost morning once more. But though midnight was longpassed, there was no rest for the city; the people wereup, the lights in the houses flamed, crowds were stillabout the doors, and the streets were busy. Rumours ofvarious natures went still from mouth to mouth: onereport averred that the Prussians had been utterlydefeated; another that it was the English who had beenattacked and conquered: a third that the latter had heldtheir ground. This last rumour gradually got strength. NoFrenchmen had made their appearance. Stragglers hadcome in from the army bringing reports more and morefavourable: at last an aide-de-camp actually reachedBrussels with despatches for the Commandant of theplace, who placarded presently through the town anofficial announcement of the success of the allies at QuatreBras, and the entire repulse of the French under Neyafter a six hours' battle. The aide-de-camp must havearrived sometime while Jos and Rebecca were making theirbargain together, or the latter was inspecting hispurchase. When he reached his own hotel, he found a scoreof its numerous inhabitants on the threshold discoursingof the news; there was no doubt as to its truth. And hewent up to communicate it to the ladies under his charge.He did not think it was necessary to tell them how hehad intended to take leave of them, how he had boughthorses, and what a price he had paid for them.

　　But success or defeat was a minor matter to them, whohad only thought for the safety of those they loved.Amelia, at the news of the victory, became still moreagitated even than before. She was for going thatmoment to the army. She besought her brother with tears toconduct her thither. Her doubts and terrors reached theirparoxysm; and the poor girl, who for many hours hadbeen plunged into stupor, raved and ran hither andthither in hysteric insanity--a piteous sight. No manwrithing in pain on the hard-fought field fifteen milesoff, where lay, after their struggles, so many of the brave--no man suffered more keenly than this poor harmlessvictim of the war. Jos could not bear the sight of herpain. He left his sister in the charge of her stouter femalecompanion, and descended once more to the thresholdof the hotel, where everybody still lingered, and talked,and waited for more news.

　　It grew to be broad daylight as they stood here, andfresh news began to arrive from the war, brought bymen who had been actors in the scene. Wagons and longcountry carts laden with wounded came rolling into thetown; ghastly groans came from within them, andhaggard faces looked up sadly from out of the straw. JosSedley was looking at one of these carriages with apainful curiosity--the moans of the people within werefrightful--the wearied horses could hardly pull the cart."Stop! stop!" a feeble voice cried from the straw, and thecarriage stopped opposite Mr. Sedley's hotel.

　　"It is George, I know it is!" cried Amelia, rushing in amoment to the balcony, with a pallid face and looseflowing hair. It was not George, however, but it was thenext best thing: it was news of him.

　　It was poor Tom Stubble, who had marched out ofBrussels so gallantly twenty-four hours before, bearingthe colours of the regiment, which he had defended verygallantly upon the field. A French lancer had speared theyoung ensign in the leg, who fell, still bravely holding tohis flag. At the conclusion of the engagement, a placehad been found for the poor boy in a cart, and he hadbeen brought back to Brussels.

　　"Mr. Sedley, Mr. Sedley!" cried the boy, faintly, andJos came up almost frightened at the appeal. He had notat first distinguished who it was that called him.

　　Little Tom Stubble held out his hot and feeble hand."I'm to be taken in here," he said. "Osborne--and--andDobbin said I was; and you are to give the man twonapoleons: my mother will pay you." This young fellow'sthoughts, during the long feverish hours passed in thecart, had been wandering to his father's parsonage whichhe had quitted only a few months before, and he hadsometimes forgotten his pain in that delirium.

　　The hotel was large, and the people kind, and all theinmates of the cart were taken in and placed on variouscouches. The young ensign was conveyed upstairs toOsborne's quarters. Amelia and the Major's wife hadrushed down to him, when the latter had recognised himfrom the balcony. You may fancy the feelings of thesewomen when they were told that the day was over, andboth their husbands were safe; in what mute raptureAmelia fell on her good friend's neck, and embracedher; in what a grateful passion of prayer she fell on herknees, and thanked the Power which had saved herhusband.

　　Our young lady, in her fevered and nervous condition,could have had no more salutary medicine prescribed forher by any physician than that which chance put in herway. She and Mrs. O'Dowd watched incessantly by thewounded lad, whose pains were very severe, and in theduty thus forced upon her, Amelia had not time to broodover her personal anxieties, or to give herself up to herown fears and forebodings after her wont. The youngpatient told in his simple fashion the events of the day, andthe actions of our friends of the gallant --th. They hadsuffered severely. They had lost very many officers andmen. The Major's horse had been shot under him as theregiment charged, and they all thought that O'Dowd wasgone, and that Dobbin had got his majority, until on theirreturn from the charge to their old ground, the Major wasdiscovered seated on Pyramus's carcase, refreshing him-self from a case-bottle. It was Captain Osborne that cutdown the French lancer who had speared the ensign.Amelia turned so pale at the notion, that Mrs. O'Dowdstopped the young ensign in this story. And it wasCaptain Dobbin who at the end of the day, though woundedhimself, took up the lad in his arms and carried him tothe surgeon, and thence to the cart which was to bringhim back to Brussels. And it was he who promised thedriver two louis if he would make his way to Mr. Sedley'shotel in the city; and tell Mrs. Captain Osborne that theaction was over, and that her husband was unhurt andwell.

　　"Indeed, but he has a good heart that WilliamDobbin," Mrs. O'Dowd said, "though he is always laughingat me."

　　Young Stubble vowed there was not such anotherofficer in the army, and never ceased his praises of thesenior captain, his modesty, his kindness, and his admirablecoolness in the field. To these parts of the conversation,Amelia lent a very distracted attention: it was only whenGeorge was spoken of that she listened, and when hewas not mentioned, she thought about him.

　　In tending her patient, and in thinking of the wonderfulescapes of the day before, her second day passedaway not too slowly with Amelia. There was only oneman in the army for her: and as long as he was well, itmust be owned that its movements interested her little.All the reports which Jos brought from the streets fellvery vaguely on her ears; though they were sufficient togive that timorous gentleman, and many other peoplethen in Brussels, every disquiet. The French had beenrepulsed certainly, but it was after a severe and doubtfulstruggle, and with only a division of the French army.The Emperor, with the main body, was away at Ligny,where he had utterly annihilated the Prussians, and wasnow free to bring his whole force to bear upon the allies.The Duke of Wellington was retreating upon the capital,and a great battle must be fought under its wallsprobably, of which the chances were more than doubtful.The Duke of Wellington had but twenty thousand Britishtroops on whom he could rely, for the Germans wereraw militia, the Belgians disaffected, and with this handfulhis Grace had to resist a hundred and fifty thousand menthat had broken into Belgium under Napoleon. UnderNapoleon! What warrior was there, however famous andskilful, that could fight at odds with him?

　　Jos thought of all these things, and trembled. So didall the rest of Brussels--where people felt that the fightof the day before was but the prelude to the greatercombat which was imminent. One of the armies opposed tothe Emperor was scattered to the winds already. Thefew English that could be brought to resist him wouldperish at their posts, and the conqueror would pass overtheir bodies into the city. Woe be to those whom hefound there! Addresses were prepared, public functionariesassembled and debated secretly, apartments weregot ready, and tricoloured banners and triumphalemblems manufactured, to welcome the arrival of HisMajesty the Emperor and King.

　　The emigration still continued, and wherever familiescould find means of departure, they fled. When Jos, onthe afternoon of the 17th of June, went to Rebecca'shotel, he found that the great Bareacres' carriage had atlength rolled away from the porte-cochere. The Earlhad procured a pair of horses somehow, in spite of Mrs.Crawley, and was rolling on the road to Ghent. Louis theDesired was getting ready his portmanteau in that city,too. It seemed as if Misfortune was never tired ofworrying into motion that unwieldy exile.

　　Jos felt that the delay of yesterday had been only arespite, and that his dearly bought horses must of asurety be put into requisition. His agonies were verysevere all this day. As long as there was an English armybetween Brussels and Napoleon, there was no need ofimmediate flight; but he had his horses brought fromtheir distant stables, to the stables in the court-yard ofthe hotel where he lived; so that they might be under hisown eyes, and beyond the risk of violent abduction.Isidor watched the stable-door constantly, and had thehorses saddled, to be ready for the start. He longedintensely for that event.

　　After the reception of the previous day, Rebecca didnot care to come near her dear Amelia. She clipped thebouquet which George had brought her, and gave freshwater to the flowers, and read over the letter which hehad sent her. "Poor wretch," she said, twirling round thelittle bit of paper in her fingers, "how I could crush herwith this!--and it is for a thing like this that she mustbreak her heart, forsooth--for a man who is stupid--acoxcomb--and who does not care for her. My poor goodRawdon is worth ten of this creature." And then she fellto thinking what she should do if--if anything happenedto poor good Rawdon, and what a great piece of luck itwas that he had left his horses behind.

　　In the course of this day too, Mrs. Crawley, who sawnot without anger the Bareacres party drive off,bethought her of the precaution which the Countess hadtaken, and did a little needlework for her own advantage;she stitched away the major part of her trinkets, bills,and bank-notes about her person, and so prepared, wasready for any event--to fly if she thought fit, or to stayand welcome the conqueror, were he Englishman orFrenchman. And I am not sure that she did not dreamthat night of becoming a duchess and Madame laMarechale, while Rawdon wrapped in his cloak, and makinghis bivouac under the rain at Mount Saint John, wasthinking, with all the force of his heart, about the littlewife whom he had left behind him.

　　The next day was a Sunday. And Mrs. Major O'Dowdhad the satisfaction of seeing both her patients refreshedin health and spirits by some rest which they had takenduring the night. She herself had slept on a great chair inAmelia's room, ready to wait upon her poor friend or theensign, should either need her nursing. When morningcame, this robust woman went back to the house whereshe and her Major had their billet; and here performedan elaborate and splendid toilette, befitting the day. Andit is very possible that whilst alone in that chamber, whichher husband had inhabited, and where his cap still lay onthe pillow, and his cane stood in the corner, one prayer atleast was sent up to Heaven for the welfare of the bravesoldier, Michael O'Dowd.

　　When she returned she brought her prayer-book withher, and her uncle the Dean's famous book of sermons,out of which she never failed to read every Sabbath; notunderstanding all, haply, not pronouncing many of thewords aright, which were long and abstruse--for theDean was a learned man, and loved long Latin words--but with great gravity, vast emphasis, and with tolerablecorrectness in the main. How often has my Mick listenedto these sermons, she thought, and me reading in thecabin of a calm! She proposed to resume this exercise onthe present day, with Amelia and the wounded ensignfor a congregation. The same service was read on thatday in twenty thousand churches at the same hour; andmillions of British men and women, on their knees,implored protection of the Father of all.

　　They did not hear the noise which disturbed our littlecongregation at Brussels. Much louder than that whichhad interrupted them two days previously, as Mrs.O'Dowd was reading the service in her best voice, thecannon of Waterloo began to roar.

　　When Jos heard that dreadful sound, he made up hismind that he would bear this perpetual recurrence ofterrors no longer, and would fly at once. He rushed into thesick man's room, where our three friends had paused intheir prayers, and further interrupted them by apassionate appeal to Amelia

　　"I can't stand it any more, Emmy," he said; 'I won'tstand it; and you must come with me. I have bought ahorse for you--never mind at what price--and you mustdress and come with me, and ride behind Isidor."

　　"God forgive me, Mr. Sedley, but you are no betterthan a coward," Mrs. O'Dowd said, laying down thebook.

　　"I say come, Amelia," the civilian went on; "nevermind what she says; why are we to stop here and bebutchered by the Frenchmen?"

　　"You forget the --th, my boy," said the little Stubble,the wounded hero, from his bed--"and and youwon't leave me, will you, Mrs. O'Dowd?"

　　"No, my dear fellow," said she, going up and kissingthe boy. "No harm shall come to you while I stand by.I don't budge till I get the word from Mick. A prettyfigure I'd be, wouldn't I, stuck behind that chap on apillion?"

　　This image caused the young patient to burst outlaughing in his bed, and even made Amelia smile. "Idon't ask her," Jos shouted out--"I don't ask that--thatIrishwoman, but you Amelia; once for all, will youcome?"

　　"Without my husband, Joseph?" Amelia said, with alook of wonder, and gave her hand to the Major's wife.Jos's patience was exhausted.

　　"Good-bye, then," he said, shaking his fist in a rage,and slamming the door by which he retreated. And thistime he really gave his order for march: and mounted inthe court-yard. Mrs. O'Dowd heard the clattering hoofsof the horses as they issued from the gate; and lookingon, made many scornful remarks on poor Joseph as herode down the street with Isidor after him in the lacedcap. The horses, which had not been exercised for somedays, were lively, and sprang about the street. Jos, aclumsy and timid horseman, did not look to advantage inthe saddle. "Look at him, Amelia dear, driving into theparlour window. Such a bull in a china-shop I neversaw." And presently the pair of riders disappeared at acanter down the street leading in the direction of theGhent road, Mrs. O'Dowd pursuing them with a fire ofsarcasm so long as they were in sight.

　　All that day from morning until past sunset, thecannon never ceased to roar. It was dark when thecannonading stopped all of a sudden.

　　All of us have read of what occurred during thatinterval. The tale is in every Englishman's mouth; andyou and I, who were children when the great battle waswon and lost, are never tired of hearing and recountingthe history of that famous action. Its remembrancerankles still in the bosoms of millions of the countrymen ofthose brave men who lost the day. They pant for anopportunity of revenging that humiliation; and if a contest,ending in a victory on their part, should ensue, elatingthem in their turn, and leaving its cursed legacy of hatredand rage behind to us, there is no end to the so-calledglory and shame, and to the alternations of successfuland unsuccessful murder, in which two high-spiritednations might engage. Centuries hence, we Frenchmen andEnglishmen might be boasting and killing each other still,carrying out bravely the Devil's code of honour.

　　All our friends took their share and fought like men inthe great field. All day long, whilst the women werepraying ten miles away, the lines of the dauntless Englishinfantry were receiving and repelling the furious charges ofthe French horsemen. Guns which were heard at Brusselswere ploughing up their ranks, and comrades falling, andthe resolute survivors closing in. Towards evening, theattack of the French, repeated and resisted so bravely,slackened in its fury. They had other foes besides theBritish to engage, or were preparing for a final onset. Itcame at last: the columns of the Imperial Guard marchedup the hill of Saint Jean, at length and at once to sweepthe English from the height which they had maintainedall day, and spite of all: unscared by the thunder of theartillery, which hurled death from the English line--thedark rolling column pressed on and up the hill. It seemedalmost to crest the eminence, when it began to wave andfalter. Then it stopped, still facing the shot. Then at lastthe English troops rushed from the post from which noenemy had been able to dislodge them, and the Guardturned and fled.

　　No more firing was heard at Brussels--the pursuitrolled miles away. Darkness came down on the field andcity: and Amelia was praying for George, who was lyingon his face, dead, with a bullet through his heart.