“Good-night, sir,--or rather, good-morning,” said Louis to me, as I turned to leave the spot. “We may chance to have better news for you than we anticipated, when you visit us here again.” And so we parted. CHAPTER V. A MAÎTRE D'ARMES. The day after the battle of Austerlitz the Prince of Lichtenstein arrived in our camp, with, as it was rumored, proposals for a peace. The negotiations, whatever they were, were strictly secret, not even the marshals themselves being admitted to Napoleon's confidence on this occasion. Soon after mid-day, a great body of the Guard who had been in reserve the previous day were drawn up in order of battle, presenting an array of several thousand men, whose dress, look, and equipment, fresh as if on parade before the Tuileries, could not fail to strike the Austrian envoy with amazement. Everything that could indicate the appearance of suffering, or even fatigue, among the troops, was sedulously kept out of view. Such of the cavalry regiments as suffered least in the battle were under arms; while the generals of division received orders to have their respective staffs fully equipped and mounted, as if on a day of review. It was late in the afternoon when the word was passed along the lines to stand to arms; and the moment after a _calèche_, drawn by six horses, passed in full gallop, and took the road towards Austerlitz. The return of the Austrian envoy set a thousand conjectures in motion, and all were eager to find out what had been the result of his mission. [Illustration: BrowneBivwacAfterBattle027] “We must soon learn it all,” said an old colonel of artillery near me. “If the game be war, we shall be called up to assist Davoust's movement on Göding. The Russians have but one line of retreat, and that is already in our possession.” “I cannot for the life of me understand the Emperor's inaction,” said a younger officer; “here we remain just as if nothing had been done. One would suppose that a Russian army stood in full force before us, and that we had not gained a tremendous battle.” “Depend on it, Auguste,” said the old officer, smiling, “his Majesty is not the man to let slip his golden opportunities. If we don't advance, it is because it is safer to remain where we are.” “Safer than pursue a flying enemy?” “Even so. It is not Russia, nor Austria, we have in the field against us; but Europe,--the world.” “With all my heart,” retorted the other, boldly; “nor do I think the odds unfair. All I would ask is, the General Bonaparte of Cairo or Marengo, and not the purple-clad Emperor of the Tuileries.” “It is not while the plain is yet reeking with the blood of Austerlitz that such a reproach should be spoken,” said I, indignantly. “Never was Bonaparte greater than Napoleon.” “Monsieur has served in Egypt?” said the young man, contemptuously, while he measured me from head to foot.