Dr. Lannefranque, one of those who attended the unfortunate Duke of Montebello, said that as he was mounting his horse on starting to the island of Lobau, the duke was possessed by gloomy presentiments.  He paused a moment, took M. Lannefranque’s hand, and pressed it, saying to him with a sad smile, “Au revoir; you will soon see us again, perhaps.  There will be work for you and for those gentlemen to-day,” pointing to several surgeons and doctors standing near.  “M. le Duc,” replied Lannefranque, “this day will add yet more to your glory.”—­“My glory,” interrupted the marshal eagerly; “do you wish me to speak frankly?  I do not approve very highly of this affair; and, moreover, whatever may be the issue, this will be my last battle.”  The doctor wished to ask the marshal his reasons for this conviction; but he set off at a gallop, and was soon out of sight.

On the morning of the battle, about six or seven o’clock, the Austrians had already advanced, when an aide-de-camp came to announce to his Majesty that a sudden rise in the Danube had washed down a great number of large trees which had been cut down when Vienna was taken, and that these trees had driven against and broken the bridges which served as communication between Essling and the island of Lobau; and in consequence of this the reserve corps, part of the heavy cavalry, and Marshal Davoust’s entire corps, found themselves forced to remain inactive on the other side.  This misfortune arrested the movement which the Emperor was preparing to make, and the enemy took courage.

The Duke of Montebello received orders to hold the field of battle, and took his position, resting on the village of Essling, instead of continuing the pursuit of the Austrians which he had already begun, and held this position from nine o’clock in the morning till the evening; and at seven o’clock in the evening the battle was gained.  At six o’clock the unfortunate marshal, while standing on an elevation to obtain a better view of the movements, was struck by a cannon-ball, which broke his right thigh and his left knee.

He thought at first that he had only a few moments to live, and had himself carried on a litter to the Emperor, saying that he wished to embrace him before he died.  The Emperor, seeing him thus weltering in his blood, had the litter placed on the ground, and, throwing himself on his knees, took the marshal in his arms, and said to him, weeping, “Lannes, do you know me?”—­“Yes, Sire; you are losing your best friend.”  —­“No! no! you will live.  Can you not answer for his life, M. Larrey?” The wounded soldiers hearing his Majesty speak thus, tried to rise on their elbows, and cried, “Vive l’Empereur!”

The surgeons carried the marshal to a little village called Ebersdorf, on the bank of the river, and near the field of battle.  At the house of a brewer they found a room over a stable where the heat was stifling, and was rendered still more unendurable from the odor of the corpses by which the house was surrounded.