with flame, but the Coldstreams turned neither to the right nor left.
Straight on they marched,--to annihilation, as it seemed,--reforming as
they went, over hill and gully, as steadily as on parade. At last they
reached their goal, and an instant's silence fell upon the field as they
faced the French. The English officers raised their hats to their
adversaries, who returned the salute as though they were at Versailles,
not looking in the eyes of death.

"'Gentlemen of the French Guard,' cried Lord Charles Hay, 'fire, if
you please.'

"'Impossible, monsieur,' cried the Count of Hauteroche; 'the French
Guards never fire first. Pray, fire yourselves.'

"The order was given, and the French ranks fell as grain before the
sickle. They gave way, the Coldstreams advancing in perfect order, firing
volley after volley. The officers, with their rattans, turned the men's
muskets to the right or left, as need demanded. Nothing could stop that
terrible approach, resistless as a whirlwind, and French and Swiss broke
themselves against it, only to be dashed back as spray from a rocky
coast. Regiment after regiment was repulsed, and the Coldstreams still
advanced. Saxe thought the battle lost, and begged the king and the
dauphin to flee while time permitted. At the last desperate moment, he
rallied the artillery and all the forces of his army for a final effort.
The artillery was massed before the English, and they had none to answer
it. The king himself led the charge against their flanks, which the Dutch
should have protected. But the Dutch preferred to remain safely in the
rear. The Coldstreams stood their ground, reforming their ranks with
perfect coolness, until Cumberland saw it were madness to remain, and
ordered the retreat. And it was more glorious than the advance. With only