Towards four o'clock，the English line drew back.
Suddenly nothing was visible on the crest of the plateau except the artillery and the sharpshooters；the rest had disappeared：
the regiments，dislodged by the shells and the French bullets，retreated into the bottom，now intersected by the back road of the farm of Mont-Saint-Jean；a retrograde movement took place，the English front hid itself，Wellington drew back.
'The beginning of retreat！'cried Napoleon.
BOOK FIRST.-WATERLOO
Ⅶ NAPOLEON IN A GOOD HUMOR
The Emperor，though ill and discommoded on horseback by a local trouble，had never been in a better humor than on that day.His impenetrability had been smiling ever since the morning.
On the 18th of June，that profound soul masked by marble beamed blindly.The man who had been gloomy at Austerlitz was gay at Waterloo.The greatest favorites of destiny make mistakes.
Our joys are composed of shadow.
The supreme smile is God's alone.
Ridet Caesar，Pompeius flebit，said the legionaries of the Fulminatrix Legion.
Pompey was not destined to weep on that occasion，but it is certain that Caesar laughed.
While exploring on horseback at one o'clock on the preceding night，in storm and rain，in company with Bertrand，the communes in the neighborhood of Rossomme，satisfied at the sight of the long line of the English camp-fires illuminating the whole horizon from Frischemont to Braine-l'Alleud，it had seemed to him that fate，to whom he had assigned a day on the field of Waterloo，was exact to the appointment；he stopped his horse，and remained for some time motionless，gazing at the lightning and listening to the thunder；and this fatalist was heard to cast into the darkness this mysterious saying，'We are in accord.'Napoleon was mistaken.
They were no longer in accord.
He took not a moment for sleep；every instant of that night was marked by a joy for him.
He traversed the line of the principal outposts，halting here and there to talk to the sentinels.
At half-past two，near the wood of Hougomont，he heard the tread of a column on the march；he thought at the moment that it was a retreat on the part of Wellington.
He said：
'It is the rear-guard of the English getting under way for the purpose of decamping.
I will take prisoners the six thousand English who have just arrived at Ostend.'He conversed expansively；he regained the animation which he had shown at his landing on the first of March，when he pointed out to the Grand-Marshal the enthusiastic peasant of the Gulf Juan，and cried，'Well，Bertrand，here is a reinforcement already！'On the night of the 17th to the 18th of June he rallied Wellington.'That little Englishman needs a lesson，'said Napoleon.
The rain redoubled in violence；the thunder rolled while the Emperor was speaking.
At half-past three o'clock in the morning，he lost one illusion；officers who had been despatched to reconnoitre announced to him that the enemy was not making any movement.
Nothing was stirring；not a bivouac-fire had been extinguished；the English army was asleep.The silence on earth was profound；the only noise was in the heavens.At four o'clock，a peasant was brought in to him by the scouts；this peasant had served as guide to a brigade of English cavalry，probably Vivian's brigade，which was on its way to take up a position in the village of Ohain，at the extreme left.
At five o'clock，two Belgian deserters reported to him that they had just quitted their regiment，and that the English army was ready for battle.'So much the better！'exclaimed Napoleon.
'I prefer to overthrow them rather than to drive them back.'
In the morning he dismounted in the mud on the slope which forms an angle with the Plancenoit road，had a kitchen table and a peasant's chair brought to him from the farm of Rossomme，seated himself，with a truss of straw for a carpet，and spread out on the table the chart of the battle-field，saying to Soult as he did so，'A pretty checker-board.'
In consequence of the rains during the night，the transports of provisions，embedded in the soft roads，had not been able to arrive by morning；the soldiers had had no sleep；they were wet and fasting.
This did not prevent Napoleon from exclaiming cheerfully to Ney，'We have ninety chances out of a hundred.'At eight o'clock the Emperor's breakfast was brought to him.He invited many generals to it.
During breakfast，it was said that Wellington had been to a ball two nights before，in Brussels，at the Duchess of Richmond's；and Soult，a rough man of war，with a face of an archbishop，said，'The ball takes place to-day.'The Emperor jested with Ney，who said，'Wellington will not be so simple as to wait for Your Majesty.'
That was his way，however.'He was fond of jesting，'says Fleury de Chaboulon.
'A merry humor was at the foundation of his character，'says Gourgaud.'He abounded in pleasantries，which were more peculiar than witty，'says Benjamin Constant.
These gayeties of a giant are worthy of insistence.
It was he who called his grenadiers'his grumblers'；he pinched their ears；he pulled their mustaches.
'The Emperor did nothing but play pranks on us，'is the remark of one of them.During the mysterious trip from the island of Elba to France，on the 27th of February，on the open sea，the French brig of war，Le Zephyr，having encountered the brig L'Inconstant，on which Napoleon was concealed，and having asked the news of Napoleon from L'Inconstant，the Emperor，who still wore in his hat the white and amaranthine cockade sown with bees，which he had adopted at the isle of Elba，laughingly seized the speaking-trumpet，and answered for himself，'The Emperor is well.'
A man who laughs like that is on familiar terms with events.
Napoleon indulged in many fits of this laughter during the breakfast at Waterloo.
After breakfast he meditated for a quarter of an hour；then two generals seated themselves on the truss of straw，pen in hand and their paper on their knees，and the Emperor dictated to them the order of battle.
