Victory, offered by an exhausted France to the Grand Alliance, is rejected. It is a decision most unwise, and liable to be regretted. With hopes of peace vanquished, then, all of Europe once more gathers its strength for another campaign of opportunity and horror. In Spain, another year means another defeat for one man, while in Italy things are quiet. Too quiet, in fact: the whispers of diplomats rather than the screams of the dying will dictate all here. Attention is drawn, as so often, to Belgium, where the greatest feats of endurance and determination will bring to the field armies both magnificent and miraculous. The frontiers of France now lie within striking distance of Marlborough and Eugene, and it falls to Mareschal Villars to hold the last line of defence.