The awful will of the Emperor still overruled them.
Wrathfully, insubordinately, protestingly, they still marched when he gave the word.
The Emperor had been working with that furious concentration which he alone of all men seemed to be able to bring about, and which was one of the secrets of his power.

Orders borne by couriers had streamed in all directions over the roads.

Napoleon was about to undertake the most daring and marvelous campaign of his whole history.

The stimulus of despair, the certainty of ruin unless the advance of the allies could be stayed, had at last awakened his dormant energies, filled his veins with the fire of youth and spring.
With that comprehensive eye which made him the master of battlefields and nations he had forseen everything.

Soldiers were coming from Spain.