"But, Sir," St. Just protested, "what about the men for the heights of Brie?"
"I tell you they cannot be spared, Sir," was the Marshal's sharp reply. "Go, Sir; the Emperor has placed me in command here. I must have time."
St. Just was attached to Ney's command, and he durst not disobey; so he made no further protest. He saw that, for some reason, the Marshal was delaying, and it troubled him. He said no word audibly, but he muttered, "It is terrible, but I am helpless. At any rate, I can obey."
He exchanged his wearied horse for a fresher one, then placed himself at the head of the squadron and started for the front. He could hear the sound of firing in the direction of Ligny on the right, and also straight ahead of him. Advancing at a rapid trot, he came up to some battalions of French infantry. They were hotly engaged with the enemy, firing as fast as they could load.
"They run, they run," shouted an officer by his side.
"Who?" asked St. Just sharply.
"The Brunswickers; see!" And he pointed towards the eddying cloud in front.
St. Just looked, but it was impossible to judge in the smoke and the confusion how the fight was going. All he saw was that the French were falling fast; right and left, and all around him they were dropping under the storm of bullets. To remain idly looking on was more than he could stand; the impulse to rush forward at the foe, to ride them down and hack and hew, was tearing him to pieces, and to remain a passive spectator was no longer possible. At last, although he had received no orders to advance, he shouted, "Charge!" and galloped forward to an opening between two squares. With a cheer, his men dashed after him. Straight before them, but concealed by the dense smoke, and formed into a square, were the Forty-second Highlanders, who had been advancing and had missed their position, so that they were unsupported. Into this square plunged St. Just's Dragoons with an impetuosity that could not be withstood. The Highlanders wavered, then broke and, in a moment, the Dragoons were in the midst of them, slashing and thrusting, and hewing like fiends let loose. The English, without knowing it, had approached so near the French lines that the battalions behind St. Just rushed in and attacked the Highlanders with the bayonet.
When St. Just and his men had cut their way through the square, sending, in their passage, many a gallant Scotsman to his account, his sword was red with blood, and yet he could scarce remember that he had used it; in his excitement, he had not had time to think, and had hardly realized what was going on.
His men and himself, mad with the lust of battle and the desire to kill, their appetite for blood increased by what it fed on, now threw themselves on a body of Black Brunswickers. It was reckless folly, for the latter far out-numbered them, and both horses and men were fresh; whereas St. Just's were blown. Blindly and madly, they rushed upon the Germans, but their foe stood firm. They retired and charged again, but not the least impression could they make upon the serried mass before them; St. Just's men were beaten back with frightful loss. Seeing the hopelessness of further fighting, St. Just ordered a retreat. At a short distance on the left was a glade with trees, and to these the discomfited Dragoons betook themselves, in the hope of finding temporary shelter. But the Brunswickers swooped down upon them with shouts of triumph.