As Ney fell back, a body of French cuirassiers advanced upon the English batteries. Their success was partial, and behind them a second column of the guard was formed. Again the assault was renewed; but the second attempt fared worse than the first. To the right of Maitland, Adam's brigade, with the Fifty-second regiment, had taken stand; wheeling now, these drove a deadly flank fire into the advancing French, while the others poured in a devastating hail of bullets from the front. The front ranks of the French replied with spirit, but when the British had completed their manoeuver, Colborne gave the order, his men cheered in response, and the countercharge began. "Vive l'Empereur!" came the responsive cheer from the thinning ranks of the assailants, and still they came on. But in the awful crash they reeled, confusion followed, and almost in the twinkling of an eye the rout began. A division of the old guard, the two battalions under Cambronne, retreated in fair order to the center of the valley, where they made their last gallant stand against the overwhelming numbers of Hugh Halkett's German brigade. They fought until but a hundred and fifty survived. From far away the despairing cry of "Sauve qui peut!" seemed to ring on their ears. To the first summons of surrender the leader had replied with dogged defiance; the second was made soon after, about three in the afternoon, and to this he yielded. He and his men filed to the English rear without a murmur, but in deep dejection. This occurrence has passed into tradition as an epic event; what Cambronne might well have said, "The guard dies, but never surrenders," was not uttered by him, but it epitomizes their character, and in the phrase which seems to have been shouted by the men themselves in their last desperate struggle, they and their leader have found immortality.