THEY MEET A LION IN THE WAY Morning in the springtime, the sixth of March, 1815, bright and sunny, the air fresh.

The parade-ground was filled with troops.

There were the veterans of the old Seventh-of-the-Line, under the young Colonel Labedoyere.

Here were the close-ranked lines of the Fifth regiment, Major Lestoype astride his big horse at the head of the first battalion.
Grenier, Drehon, Suraif and the other officers with their companies, the men in heavy marching order, their white cockades shining in the bright sunlight in their shakos.

The artillery was drawn up on the walls, the little squadron of household cavalry was in attendance upon the Marquis.
His lean, spare figure looked well upon a horse.