On the 29th Blücher was at Gonesse, with his advanced troops close to Aubervilliers, near St Denis; and Wellington was at Senlis. Although the Chamber had asked for a suspension of hostilities, no agreement had been arrived at, and knowing that the French now had some 80,000 soldiers in Paris, Wellington and Blücher decided that the Prussians should move round to the south of the city, while the remainder of the allied troops pushed in from the north. On the 30th, therefore, the Prussians crossed the Seine near St Germains, and two days later Blücher was at Versailles. On that day (July 2) Wellington threw a bridge across the Seine at Argenteuil, to better his communications with Blücher, and on the following day the last shots of the campaign were fired, the Prussians having a smart skirmish at Issy, and the opposing piquets on the north of the city exchanging a few shots. In the evening part of the 51st moved to the village of Aubervilliers, which had not been wholly abandoned by the French troops, so that, as had frequently occurred in Peninsula times, one half of the village was held by the British and the other by the French, without molesting one another. And here occurred one of those curious incidents illustrative of the friendship of enemies which were not uncommon in Peninsular warfare. Ensign Mainwaring tells the story:-- "We soon grew friends, and on the full security of honourable warfare some of us crossed the streets and entered into conversation with the officers. They good-naturedly asked us how we were off for eatables, and offered to send us some white bread and tobacco; and the nearest picket was immediately furnished with a good supply, for which their sutler-woman was well paid, though the French refused at first to take payment. They asked us into the house and gave us an excellent luncheon, and whilst we were all laughing and talking away, one of the officers, by his epaulettes apparently a major, took hold of the button of my jacket, and looking at it exclaimed, 'Ah, 51st! Was monsieur with his regiment in Spain? for I saved the life of one of your captains, whom we captured at the battle of Nivelle; he was _un brave homme, bel homme_. Is he alive? I should so much like to see him.' It was rather singular that the person of whom he spoke was the captain of my company (Phelps),[84] and I accordingly told the Frenchman that his wish could be instantly and easily gratified, that the _Brave_ was in a house not a hundred yards distant, and I immediately sent for him. He soon came; the Gaul was delighted, flew into his arms, kissed him on one cheek and then on the other, talked with the utmost rapidity, asked a hundred questions and never waited for one answer from my gallant old chief, who, when he got breathing-time, recognised him instantly, shook him heartily by the hand, acknowledged that he had saved his life, prevented his being