But the Russian infantry attack had been followed by a headlong charge of the Chevalier Guards and Cuirassiers of the Russian Guard, under the Grand Duke Constantine, brother of the Emperor Alexander, supported by numerous lines of cavalry. So well led and so impetuous was the attack, that the two battalions on the left of Vandamme’s division were broken and swept away in headlong flight. One of these battalions belonged to the 4th of the line, of which Napoleon’s brother Joseph was colonel, and the Emperor saw it lose its eagle and abandon its position, shattered and destroyed, forming the one dark spot to sully the brilliancy of French steadfastness on that day of self-devotion. The tide of panic-stricken fugitives almost surged against the Emperor himself. All efforts to rally them were in vain. Maddened with fear, they heard not the voices of generals and officers imploring them not to abandon the field of honour and their Emperor. Their only response was to gasp out mechanically: “Vive l’Empereur!” while still hurrying their frantic pace. Napoleon smiled at them in pity; then, with a gesture of contempt, he said: “Let them go!” and, still calm in the midst of the turmoil, sent General Rapp to bring up the cavalry of his Guard. Rapp was titular Colonel of the Mamelukes, a corps which recalled the glories of Egypt and the personal regard which Napoleon, as a man, had been able to inspire into Orientals. They, with the Grenadiers à Cheval and the Chasseurs of the Guard, now swooped upon the Russian squadrons. The struggle of the _mêlée_ was bloody and obstinate between the picked horsemen of Western and Eastern Europe; but the Russian chivalry was at length overwhelmed and driven back with immense loss. Many standards and prisoners fell into the hands of the French, amongst others Prince Repnin, Colonel of the Chevalier Guards. His regiment, whose ranks were filled with men of the noblest families in Russia, had fought with a valour worthy of their name, and lay almost by ranks upon the field. It had been the mark of the giant Grenadiers à Cheval, whose savage war-cry in the great charge had been, as they swayed their heavy sabres, “Let us make the dames of St. Petersburg weep to-day!” When success was assured, Rapp returned to report to Napoleon--a warlike figure, as he approached, alone, at a gallop, with proud mien, the light of battle in his eye, his sword dripping with blood and a sabre cut on his forehead. “Sire, we have overthrown and destroyed the Russian Guard and taken their artillery.” “It was gallantly done: I saw it,” replied the Emperor. “But you are wounded.” “It is nothing, sire: it is only a scratch.” “It is another quartering of nobility, and I know of none that can be more illustrious.”