The daughter of the long line of kings again stood proudly by his side, and the sunny face of his child shone out from beneath the diadem that encircled its flowing locks.

The marshals of the Empire awaited his command.

The legions of the old guard were in the field, their scarred faces rejuvenated, and their ranks, thinned in many battles, replenished, Russia, Prussia, Austria, Denmark and England, gathered their mighty hosts to give him battle.

Once more he mounted his impatient charger, and rushed forth to conquest.

He waved his sword aloft, and cried "TETE D'ARMEE." The feverish vision broke--the mockery was ended.