Those among you who were prisoners in England can tell their comrades what frightful torments they suffered on board the English hulks.
Madmen! a moment of prosperity has blinded them, and if they enter into France it will be to find a grave there!"
But the partisans of the French prophesied a more speedy extermination of the Emperor's enemies than this; and it was agreed on all hands that Prussians and British would never return except as prisoners in the rear of the conquering army.
These opinions in the course of the day were brought to operate upon Mr. Sedley.
He was told that the Duke of Wellington had gone to try and rally his army, the advance of which had been utterly crushed the night before.
"Crushed, psha!" said Jos, whose heart was pretty stout at breakfast-time.
"The Duke has gone to beat the Emperor as he has beaten all his generals before."
"His papers are burned, his effects are removed, and his quarters are being got ready for the Duke of Dalmatia," Jos's informant replied.
"I had it from his own maitre d'hotel.
Milor Duc de Richemont's people are packing up everything.
His Grace has fled already, and the Duchess is only waiting to see the plate packed to join the King of France at Ostend."
"The King of France is at Ghent, fellow," replied Jos, affecting incredulity.
"He fled last night to Bruges, and embarks today from Ostend.
The Duc de Berri is taken prisoner.
Those who wish to be safe had better go soon, for the dykes will be opened to-morrow, and who can fly when the whole country is under water?"
"Nonsense, sir, we are three to one, sir, against any force Boney can bring into the field," Mr. Sedley objected; "the Austrians and the Russians are on their march.
He must, he shall be crushed," Jos said, slapping his hand on the table.
"The Prussians were three to one at Jena, and he took their army and kingdom in a week.
They were six to one at Montmirail, and he scattered them like sheep.
The Austrian army is coming, but with the Empress and the King of Rome at its head; and the Russians, bah! the Russians will withdraw.
No quarter is to be given to the English, on account of their cruelty to our braves on board the infamous pontoons.
Look here, here it is in black and white.
Here's the proclamation of his Majesty the Emperor and King," said the now declared partisan of Napoleon, and taking the document from his pocket, Isidor sternly thrust it into his master's face, and already looked upon the frogged coat and valuables as his own spoil.
Jos was, if not seriously alarmed as yet, at least considerably disturbed in mind.
"Give me my coat and cap, sir," said he, "and follow me.
I will go myself and learn the truth of these reports."
Isidor was furious as Jos put on the braided frock.
"Milor had better not wear that military coat," said he; "the Frenchmen have sworn not to give quarter to a single British soldier."
"Silence, sirrah!" said Jos, with a resolute countenance still, and thrust his arm into the sleeve with indomitable resolution, in the performance of which heroic act he was found by Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, who at this juncture came up to visit Amelia, and entered without ringing at the antechamber door.
Rebecca was dressed very neatly and smartly, as usual: her quiet sleep after Rawdon's departure had refreshed her, and her pink smiling cheeks were quite pleasant to look at, in a town and on a day when everybody else's countenance wore the appearance of the deepest anxiety and gloom.
She laughed at the attitude in which Jos was discovered, and the struggles and convulsions with which the stout gentleman thrust himself into the braided coat.
"Are you preparing to join the army, Mr. Joseph?" she said.
"Is there to be nobody left in Brussels to protect us poor women?"
Jos succeeded in plunging into the coat, and came forward blushing and stuttering out excuses to his fair visitor.
"How was she after the events of the morning--after the fatigues of the ball the night before?"
Monsieur Isidor disappeared into his master's adjacent bedroom, bearing off the flowered dressing-gown.
"How good of you to ask," said she, pressing one of his hands in both her own.
"How cool and collected you look when everybody else is frightened!
How is our dear little Emmy?
It must have been an awful, awful parting."
"Tremendous," Jos said.
"You men can bear anything," replied the lady.
"Parting or danger are nothing to you.
Own now that you were going to join the army and leave us to our fate.
I know you were--something tells me you were.
I was so frightened, when the thought came into my head (for I do sometimes think of you when I am alone, Mr. Joseph), that I ran off immediately to beg and entreat you not to fly from us."
This speech might be interpreted,
"My dear sir, should an accident befall the army, and a retreat be necessary, you have a very comfortable carriage, in which I propose to take a seat."
I don't know whether Jos understood the words in this sense. But he was profoundly mortified by the lady's inattention to him during their stay at Brussels.
He had never been presented to any of Rawdon Crawley's great acquaintances: he had scarcely been invited to Rebecca's parties; for he was too timid to play much, and his presence bored George and Rawdon equally, who neither of them, perhaps, liked to have a witness of the amusements in which the pair chose to indulge.