"Have you, by God?" said his lordship, too intent on the operations of his troops to pay much heed.
Colin Campbell, preparing to support Uxbridge off the field, seized the Duke's bridle, saying roughly: "This is no place for you! I wish you will move!"
"I will when I have seen these fellows off," replied his lordship.
To the south-east of La Belle Alliance, the Prussians, driving the Young Guard out of Plancenoit, were advancing on the chaussee, to converge there with Allied troops. Billow's infantry were singing the Lutheran hymn, Now thank we all our God, but as the columns came abreast of the British Guards, halted by the road, the hymn ceased abruptly. The band struck up God Save the King, and as the Prussians marched past they saluted.
It was past nine o'clock when, in the darkness, south of La Belle Alliance, the Duke met Prince Blucher. The Prince, beside himself with exultation, carried beyond coherent speech by his admiration for the gallantry of the British troops and for the generalship of his friend and ally, could find only one thing to say as he embraced the Duke ruthlessly on both cheeks: "I stink of garlic!"
When his first transports of joy were a little abated, he offered to take on the pursuit of the French through the night. The Duke's battered forces, dog-tired, terribly diminished in numbers, were ordered to bivouac where they stood, on the ground occupied all day by the French; and the Duke, accompanied by a mere skeleton of the brilliant cortege which had gone with him into the field that morning, rode back in clouded moonlight to his Headquarters.
Baron Muffling, drawing abreast of him, said: "The Field Marshal will call this battle Belle-Alliance, sir."
His lordship returned no answer. The Baron, casting a shrewd glance at his bony profile, with its frosty eye and pursed mouth, realised that he had no intention of calling the battle by that name. It was his lordship's custom to name his victories after the village or town where he had slept the night before them. The Marshal Prince might call the battle what he liked, but his lordship would head his despatch to Earl Bathurst: "Waterloo".
Chapter Twenty-Five
For those in Brussels the day had been one of increasing anxiety. Contrary to expectation, no firing was heard, the wind blowing steadily from the north-west. The Duke's despatch to Sir Charles Stuart, written from Waterloo in the small hours, reached him at seven o'clock, and shortly afterwards Baron van de Capellan, the Secretary of State, issued a reassuring proclamation. After that no news of any kind was received in the town for many hours.