The snow, half melted with the heavy rains, lay still deeply on the roads, and a dark, lowering sky stretched above, as I harried onwards, with all the speed I could, towards the east of France.
Already the Allies had passed the Rhine. Schwartzen-berg in the south, Blucher in the east, and Bernadotte on the Flemish frontier, were conveying their vast armies to bear down on him whom singly none had dared to encounter. All France was in arms, and every step was turned eastwards. Immense troops of conscripts, many scarce of the age of boyhood, crowded the highways. The veterans themselves were enrolled once more, and formed battalions for the defence of their native land. Every town and village was a garrison. The deep-toned rolling of ammunition wagons and the heavy tramp of horses sounded through the nights long. War, terrible war, spoke from every object around. Strongholds were strengthening, regiments brigading, cavalry organizing on all sides.
No longer, however, did I witness the wild enthusiasm which I so well remembered among the soldiers of the army. Here were no glorious outbreaks of that daring spirit which so marked the Frenchman, and made him almost irresistible in arms. A sad and gloomy silence prevailed: a look of fierce but hopeless determination was over all. They marched like men going to death, but with the step and bearing of heroes.
I entered the little town of Verviers. The day was breaking, but the troops were under arms. The Emperor had but just taken his departure for Châlons-sur-Marne. They told me of it as I changed horses,—not with that fierce pride which a mere passing glance at the great Napoleon would once have evoked; they spoke of him without emotion. I asked if he were paler or thinner than his wont: they did not know. They said that he travelled post, but that his staff were on horseback. From this I gathered that he was either ill, or in that frame of mind in which he preferred to be alone. While I was yet speaking, an officer of Engineers came up to the carriage, and called out,—
“Unharness these horses, and bring them down to the barracks. These, sir,” said he, turning towards me, “are not times to admit of ceremony. We have eighteen guns to move, and want cattle.”
“Enough, sir,” said I. “I am not here to retard your movements, but if I can, to forward them. Can I, as a volunteer, be of any service at this moment?”
“Have you served before? Of course you have, though. In what arm?”
“As a Hussar of the Guard, for some years.”
“Come along with me; I 'll bring you to the general at once.”
Re-entering the inn, the officer preceded me up stairs, and after a moment's delay, introduced me into the presence of General Letort, then commanding a cavalry brigade.