a living wreck, and his recovery despaired of. He had been wounded in
six places, and lay motionless and insensible; his servant walking by
his side in silent trouble. As the remains of his regiment marched
slowly back upon Mantua, and passed the convoy of the wounded close to
the gates, you might have heard the name of Alvinzi singled out by the
men for more deep and particular lamentation. He had been their friend,
their pride, their example; and their eyes were turned upon the wagon on
which he lay with an expression of sadness too stern and severe for
tears.

The news of this disastrous battle was communicated to Count Adony at
Salzburgh in a letter from his cousin the Count Zichy. Beatrice and her
father were sitting in his library after night-fall, each occupied with
a book, under the calm, soft light of a lamp which hung a little above
them, when this letter was brought in. He read it eagerly and rapidly to
himself; and then, with a grateful exclamation for the safety of Zichy,
and those officers with whom he was more especially acquainted, he again
read it aloud to Beatrice. It ran as follows:--

"MY DEAR AND HONOURED COUSIN,

"We are all doing our best; but, I am sorry to say, we are losing
everything except our honour. Fortune is with these Frenchmen. Of six
hundred swords, with which I marched from Salzburgh ten weeks ago, only
two hundred and twenty remain to me. We lost, in the battle of yesterday,
nearly three hundred killed and wounded. I never saw our men fight
better: the enemy opposed to us were fairly beaten at the sword's point;
and we took a battery of twelve guns, which tried to cover their
discomfiture; but we conquered only to retire. I have not a word to say
against old Wurmser: he is a clear headed, tough-hearted veteran, but