The Austrians were, however, compelled finally to retreat, that same evening, from the ground which they had so resolutely contested:—­the movement was made in fine order, and they carried off all their wounded in safety.  Upon a crowded wagon lay Julius Alvinzi; living, indeed, but 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 these French generals are too young for him.  I am quite well, but had a narrow escape; two horses were killed under me, and a grape shot passed through my cap.

“Tell dear Beatrice, I have got that engraving of the Madonna del Rosario of Domenichino which she wanted.  I picked it up at Verona; thanks to poor Alvinzi, by the way.  Though you, neither of you, saw nor knew much of this youth, you have so often heard me speak of his worth, that you will be sorry for me when I tell you that I have lost him; and, in him, my best and most zealous officer.  He is covered with wounds, and cannot live through the night;—­the noble fellow was struck down within a yard of the enemy’s guns.  Of others, whom you may remember, Kreiner, Zetter, and Hartmann, are killed; and several are wounded:  Kalmann and Hettinger very severely.—­You shall hear from me again soon; but matters look very unpromising.