BOOK FIRST.-WATERLOO
Ⅰ WHAT IS MET WITH ON THE WAY FROM NIVELLES
year（1861），on a beautiful May morning，a traveller，the personwho is telling this story，was coming from Nivelles，and directinghis course towards La Hulpe.He was on foot.He was pursuinga broad paved road，which undulated between two rows of trees，over the hills which succeed each other，raise the road and let itfall again，and produce something in the nature of enormous waves.
He had passed Lillois and Bois-Seigneur-Isaac.In the west heperceived the slate-roofed tower of Braine-l'Alleud，which hasthe form of a reversed vase.He had just left behind a wood uponan eminence；and at the angle of the cross-road，by the sideof a sort of mouldy gibbet bearing the inscription AncientBarrier No.4，a public house，bearing on its front this sign：At the Four Winds（Aux Quatre Vents）.Echabeau，Private Cafe.
A quarter of a league further on，he arrived at the bottom of alittle valley，where there is water which passes beneath an archmade through the embankment of the road.The clump of sparselyplanted but very green trees，which fills the valley on one side ofthe road，is dispersed over the meadows on the other，and disappearsgracefully and as in order in the direction of Braine-l'Alleud.
On the right，close to the road，was an inn，with a four-wheeled cartat the door，a large bundle of hop-poles，a plough，a heap of driedbrushwood near a flourishing hedge，lime smoking in a square hole，and a ladder suspended along an old penthouse with straw partitions.A young girl was weeding in a field，where a huge yellow poster，probably of some outside spectacle，such as a parish festival，was fluttering in the wind.At one corner of the inn，beside a poolin which a flotilla of ducks was navigating，a badly paved path plungedinto the bushes.The wayfarer struck into this.
After traversing a hundred paces，skirting a wall of thefifteenth century，surmounted by a pointed gable，with bricks setin contrast，he found himself before a large door of arched stone，with a rectilinear impost，in the sombre style of Louis XIV.，flankedby two flat medallions.A severe facade rose above this door；a wall，perpendicular to the facade，almost touched the door，and flanked it with an abrupt right angle.In the meadowbefore the door lay three harrows，through which，in disorder，grew all the flowers of May.The door was closed.The two decrepitleaves which barred it were ornamented with an old rusty knocker.
The sun was charming；the branches had that soft shivering of May，which seems to proceed rather from the nests than from the wind.A brave little bird，probably a lover，was carolling in a distractedmanner in a large tree.
The wayfarer bent over and examined a rather large circular excavation，resembling the hollow of a sphere，in the stone on the left，at the foot of the pier of the door.
At this moment the leaves of the door parted，and a peasantwoman emerged.
She saw the wayfarer，and perceived what he was looking at.
'It was a French cannon-ball which made that，'she said to him.And she added：——
'That which you see there，higher up in the door，near a nail，is the hole of a big iron bullet as large as an egg.The bullet didnot pierce the wood.'
'What is the name of this place？'inquired the wayfarer.
'Hougomont，'said the peasant woman.
The traveller straightened himself up.He walked on a few paces，and went off to look over the tops of the hedges.On the horizonthrough the trees，he perceived a sort of little elevation，and on this elevation something which at that distance resembleda lion.
He was on the battle-field of Waterloo.
BOOK FIRST.-WATERLOO
Ⅱ HOUGOMONT
Hougomont，——this was a funereal spot，the beginning of the obstacle，the first resistance，which that great wood-cutter of Europe，called Napoleon，encountered at Waterloo，the first knot under the blows of his axe.
It was a chateau；it is no longer anything but a farm.
For the antiquary，Hougomont is Hugomons.
This manor was built by Hugo，Sire of Somerel，the same who endowed the sixth chaplaincy of the Abbey of Villiers.
The traveller pushed open the door，elbowed an ancient calash under the porch，and entered the courtyard.
The first thing which struck him in this paddock was a door of the sixteenth century，which here simulates an arcade，everything else having fallen prostrate around it.
A monumental aspect often has its birth in ruin.
In a wall near the arcade opens another arched door，of the time of Henry IV.，permitting a glimpse of the trees of an orchard；beside this door，a manure-hole，some pickaxes，some shovels，some carts，an old well，with its flagstone and its iron reel，a chicken jumping，and a turkey spreading its tail，a chapel surmounted by a small bell-tower，a blossoming pear-tree trained in espalier against the wall of the chapel——behold the court，the conquest of which was one of Napoleon's dreams.
This corner of earth，could he but have seized it，would，perhaps，have given him the world likewise.
Chickens are scattering its dust abroad with their beaks.
A growl is audible；it is a huge dog，who shows his teeth and replaces the English.
The English behaved admirably there.
Cooke's four companies of guards there held out for seven hours against the fury of an army.
Hougomont viewed on the map，as a geometrical plan，comprising buildings and enclosures，presents a sort of irregular rectangle，one angle of which is nicked out.
It is this angle which contains the southern door，guarded by this wall，which commands it only a gun's length away.
