It reminded him of the dash of the "little corporal" with the flag on the bridge of Lodi, of which old Bullet-Stopper had often told him and the other young men over the camp-fires.
The Fifth-of-the-Line had immortalized itself that day, adding to the fame it had gained upon a hundred fields, an imperishable crown.
Napoleon saw that the battle was lost, that the whole Austrian army had blundered upon that first French division and that, unless their steady advance could be checked, the division itself would be cut to pieces.
Men had grown more precious to the Emperor every hour.

What would he not have given for those he had spent so recklessly years before?
And here was a whole division about to be annihilated, to say nothing of the cavalry, which had performed prodigies of valor.
"What regiment is that ?" he had asked Marteau, who was riding at his heels in the midst of the fugitives, and doing his best to second the Emperor's frantic efforts to restore order and bring the men to a stand.
"The Fifth-of-the-Line, Sire." "Your old regiment ?" "The same, Sire." "It still stands." "And it will stand." "Good! Go to it.

Tell them that I, the Emperor, devote them to death, for me and for the army.

They must hold the Austrians in check and cover the retreat." "Farewell, Sire," the young soldier had said, saluting.
"What mean you ?" "I shall not come back with the remainder." "Adieu," said the Emperor, acknowledging the salute and understanding all.
How well Marteau remembered that frightful conflict.

The Fifth-of-the-Line had not waited to be attacked.