Having issued all these orders, and seen that everything was in train, Wellington allowed the troops at Quatre Bras to rest themselves, and ordered their dinners, to be cooked.  No movement was yet to be seen on the part of the French; there was, therefore, no occasion to hurry.  Those, therefore, of the men who were not out on patrol stretched themselves on the ground and rested till noon.  Dinner over the infantry marched off in two columns, the cavalry remaining until four o’clock in the afternoon, when upon the advance of Ney in front and Napoleon on the left they fell back, and after some sharp skirmishes with the enemy’s light cavalry joined the infantry before nightfall in their position near Mount St. Jean and Waterloo.  Rain had fallen for a time during the afternoon of the battle, and now at four o’clock it again began to come down heavily, soaking the troops to the skin.

“This is miserable, Stapleton,” Ralph said to his friend, after the regiment had piled arms on the ground pointed out to them by the officers of the quartermaster’s department.

“I am rather glad to hear you say it is miserable, Ralph.  I was certainly thinking so myself; but you always accuse me of being a grumbler, so I thought I would hold my tongue.”

Ralph laughed.  “I don’t think any one could deny that it is miserable, Stapleton; but some people keep up their spirits under miserable circumstances and others don’t.  This is one of the occasions on which it is really very hard to feel cheerful.  There is not a dry thing in the regiment; the rain is coming down steadily and looks as if it meant to keep it up all night.  The ground is fast turning into soft mud, and we have got to sleep upon it, or rather in it; for by the time we are ready to lie down it will be soft enough to let us sink right in.  I think the best plan will be to try to get hold of a small bundle of rushes or straw, or something of that sort, to keep our heads above it, otherwise we shall risk suffocation.”

“It is beastly,” Stapleton said emphatically.  “Look at the men; what a change in them since we marched along this road yesterday.  Then they were full of fun and spirits, now they look washed out and miserable.  Were the French to attack us now you wouldn’t see our men fight as you did yesterday.”

“But you must remember, Stapleton, the French are just as wet as we are.  This is not a little private rain of our own, you know, got up for our special annoyance; but it extends right over the country.”

“What nonsense you talk, Conway; as if I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you spoke as if you didn’t, Stapleton; but you will see the fellows will fight when they are called upon.  Just at present they are not only wet but they are disgusted.  And I own it is disgusting after fighting as hard as we did yesterday to find it’s all been of no use, and that instead of marching against the enemy we are marching away from them.  Of course it can’t be helped; and if we had waited another half-hour we should have had all the French army on us, and yesterday’s work would have been mere child’s play to it.  Still I can quite enter into the soldier’s feelings.  Of course they do not understand the position, and regard it as simply a retreat instead of a mere shifting of ground to take up better position and fight again to-morrow.