God had given this man the seventh part of the habitable globe to rule over. He had given him the splendour of a throne, the wealth of an imperial treasury, the command of mighty armaments. He had given him even more--victory over all his foes, success in all his undertakings; at this time nothing that he sought to accomplish was denied him. Yet the man’s deep heart was still unsatisfied. “All these things were too little” for him. One thing he desired of the Lord, that he sought after--“to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple.” That also God gave him. The brightest glory, the “crowning mercy” of Alexander’s life, was no earthly triumph, no victory in war or diplomacy; it was that God answered him in the joy of his heart, and enabled him to say, with the poorest and humblest of his believing children, “My Father, my Saviour.” The secret of the Lord was with him, and He showed him His covenant. CHAPTER XXXIV. AFTER WATERLOO. “Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the cross of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.” “A great battle! Napoleon is annihilated! Wellington and the English have done it!” Such was the cry with which Tolstoi rushed breathless into the guard-room where Ivan and others were sitting. The tidings were not wholly unexpected, and yet they came with startling swiftness and suddenness. Only a few days before had Napoleon disclosed his real design, and poured his troops into Belgium. So rapidly had this movement been effected, that while Wellington was actually engaged in writing to the Czar to arrange a plan for an offensive campaign, the French had advanced upon the British and Prussian cantonments, and the firing had begun. Wellington’s letter was dated the 15th of June, and by the evening of the 18th--one of the most momentous days in the world’s history--Napoleon was a ruined and despairing fugitive. It was only natural if, after the first outburst of exulting joy at the overthrow of the common enemy, the Russians remembered Moscow and the glories of the German campaigns, and said sadly each to the other, “Ah, why were not we there?” “I do not grudge the English their laurels,” said the captain of the Chevalier Guard. “They are a gallant race, and have been true throughout to the cause of Europe and of freedom. But why were not _we_ at hand, instead of Blucher and those Prussians, to stand by them breast to breast?” “We can only say, captain, it was the will of God,” answered Ivan. “He sent the English and the Prussians to Belgium, and kept us here. He knows--and all the world knows too--that the Czar was as ready for the work as Wellington or Blucher, and would have done it quite as well.”