Weeks afterward, when the Marshal felt that the Emperor must have learned about the iron cage threat, he was clumsy enough to mention the matter to Napoleon, and to claim that he merely made the remark to deceive the King as to his real design, which was to go over to the returning Emperor. Napoleon said nothing, but gave Ney one of those looks which made even Vandamme grow ill at ease. Mortified, feeling that he had blundered throughout,--in 1814 and in 1815,--Ney withdrew to his estate. Only at the last moment, and then out of pity, did Napoleon send word to Ney that he might serve. The message was fatal--for it cost Napoleon his throne, and Ney his life. It was not until the 12th of June that Ney set out for the army, and he was so ill prepared that he made the journey to Avesnes in a coach, and from there to Beaumont in a peasant’s cart. It was that evening that he bought from Marshal Mortier the horses he rode into battle. At the head of his army, Napoleon was cordial to his old lieutenant. “I am glad to see you, Ney. You will take command of 1st and 2nd Army Corps. Drive the enemy on the Brussels road, and take possession of Quatre Bras.” * * * * * What of the composition and temper of the army with which the great Captain was to make his last campaign? The officers did not possess the confidence of the troops, and were themselves without confidence in the star of Napoleon. Even those generals who were at heart his friends and were ready to die by him, had little or no hope of success. How could it be otherwise? Napoleon could not inspire others with a faith which he did not himself feel; and we have overwhelming evidence to the effect that he was depressed, filled with forebodings. It was in the troops of the rank and file that confidence lay. These were in a frenzy of enthusiasm for their Emperor, and of hatred against his enemies. In their way of judging events, their Captain had never been defeated. The Russian snows had been the cause of his failure in 1812, and the treachery of his Marshals had been his ruin in the Campaign of 1813 and 1814. Nothing but treachery could check him now; but that there _was_ treason afoot was a universal suspicion among the men of the rank and file. “Don’t trust the Marshals,” they were constantly saying; and even at Waterloo a soldier ran from the ranks, caught the bridle rein of the white Arabian mare that the Emperor rode, and exclaimed, “Sire, don’t trust Marshal Soult! He betrays you!” “Be calm. Trust Marshal Soult, and trust me,” was Napoleon’s reply. Evidently here was an army that would strike with terrific force, but which might _break all to pieces on the field at the slightest evidence of bad faith on the part of its commanders_.