“What’s Ney’s force; can you guess, sir?” said the Duke of Wellington, turning to me.
“About twelve thousand men, my lord.”
“Are the Guard among them?”
“No, sir; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle Alliance.”
“In what part of the field is Bonaparte?”
“Nearly opposite to where we stand.”
“I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the great attack. The battle must be decided here,” pointing as he spoke to the plain beneath us, where Ney still poured on his devoted columns, where yet the French cavalry rode down upon our firm squares.
As he spoke, an aide-de-camp rode up from the valley.
“The Ninety-second requires support, my lord. They cannot maintain their position half an hour longer with out it.”
“Have they given way, sir?”