"Where is the Duke of Illyria?" Napoleon asked. "At the head of his
division, no doubt," said Murat: at which Eugene, giving me an arch
look, put his hand to his nose, and caused me almost to fall off my
horse with laughter. Napoleon looked sternly at me; but at this moment
the troops getting in motion, the celebrated manoeuvre began, and his
Majesty's attention was taken off from my impudence.
Milhaud's Dragoons, their bands playing "Vive Henri Quatre," their
cuirasses gleaming in the sunshine, moved upon their own centre from the
left flank in the most brilliant order, while the Carbineers of Foy, and
the Grenadiers of the Guard under Drouet d'Erlon, executed a carambolade
on the right, with the precision which became those veteran troops; but
the Chasseurs of the young guard, marching by twos instead of threes,
bore consequently upon the Bavarian Uhlans (an ill-disciplined and
ill-affected body), and then, falling back in disorder, became entangled
with the artillery and the left centre of the line, and in one instant
thirty thousand men were in inextricable confusion.
"Clubbed, by Jabers!" roared out Lanty Clancy. "I wish we could show 'em
the Fighting Onety-oneth, Captain darling."
"Silence, fellow!" I exclaimed. I never saw the face of man express
passion so vividly as now did the livid countenance of Napoleon.
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