train/TRAIN_00536.eml

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<title>He, old boy! you are forgetting Poniatowski's Red Lancers, the Cuirassiers, the Dragoons, and the whole boiling. Whenever Napoleon grew tired of seeing his battalions gain no ground towards the end of a victory, he would say to Murat, 'Here, you! cut them in two for me!' and we set out first at a trot, and then at a gallop, /one, two/! and cut a way clean through the ranks of the enemy; it was like slicing an apple in two with a knife. Why, a charge of cavalry is nothing more nor less than a column of cannon balls.  No, no! Mrs. Mallet cried. To bring him back voluntarily, that he may face his trial like a man!  Mr. Batchgrew, for the second time that morning unequal to a situation, turned foolishly to the wardrobe, clearing his throat and snorting. She took Madame Hulot's hand and before the lady could do anything to hinder her, she kissed it respectfully, even humbling herself to bend one knee. Then she rose, as proud as when she stood on the stage in the part of _Mathilde_, and rang the bell.  'Tis impossible! 'Tis a wild tale, though God knows I wish it were true, because he was a fine and gallant lad.  Not a prank.</title>
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