the balance of the army and repair the fault of having with a presumption born of years of triumph, crossed, on a single bridge, the widest river in Europe, in the face of all the power of the Austrian Empire.

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St. Hilaire, the veteran of Italy, would lead the charge no more; and Lannes, the old comrade of the early days, struck by the cannon-ball at Essling, was soon to close his glorious career of arms and perish, a giant," when giants were most needed to extricate the army from its perilous position. In the heart of the Austrian Empire, France and her victorious Emperor had received a check, and let it once be thought that check had impaired their prestige, and Germany, affrighted by Ratisbon and Eckmuhl, would recover courage, Austria would awake to new vigor, Holland would lift up her head, Spain would shout more fiercely her guerilla war-cry, England would scatter firebrands on every side, and from the Baltic to Gibraltar one shout would reverberate through Europe—" On to Paris!"

So in silence the Emperor paced the bank, and the Marshals awaited his pleasure. Soon the splash of oars was heard, and a boat rowed by four voltigeurs was seen nearing the shore; it contained the Marshal Davout. When the Marshal had landed he joined the Emperor, and together they went to the great fir-tree, where the Emperor sat down on a log. Marshal Davout sat on one side of him and Marshal Massena upon the other, while Bessieres and the Prince of Neufchatel stood wrapped in their cloaks. It was a council of war.

"Well," said the Emperor to the Prince of Neufchatel, "what is your opinion?"

'Sire, I do not see what we can do but cross to the right bank as best we can. After the terrible losses we have experienced to-day we certainly cannot remain longer on the left bank. It seems to me that our only hope lies in getting back into Vienna."

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And what do you think?" said the Emperor, turning to Marshal Bessieres.

"I am of the same opinion as the Prince of Neufchatel, sire."

"Are you of the same opinion, Massena?" inquired the Emperor.

"I think, sire, that it would be extremely dangerous for us to attempt to maintain our position in Lobau. Our losses to-day have been something"

"I know," said the Emperor quietly.

Davout said nothing, but his face was very sad. "Gentlemen," said the Emperor, "the day has been a severe one, but it cannot be considered a defeat, since we remain masters of the field of battle. It is doing a great deal to retire safe after such a conflict; sustained with a huge river at our back and our bridges destroyed. Our loss in killed and wounded is great, greater than any we have before suffered in our long wars, but that of the enemy must have been a third greater. There is a retrograde movement, proper and necessary, to recross the small arm of the Danube and wait there for the water to subside and the bridge to be rebuilt. This movement can be performed to-night without losing a single wounded man, a single horse, or a single gun; above all, without losing honor. But there is another retrograde movement, dishonoring and disastrous, to repass not only the small arm but also the great arm of the Danube, scrambling over this

as best we can with boats that can carry only sound men, abandoning our wounded, our cannon, and our horses, and also the island of Lobau, which is the true ground for ultimately effecting a passage. If we act thus and present ourselves thus to the Viennese, they will overwhelm us with scorn and soon summon the Archduke Charles to expel us from the capital. In that case it is not a retreat to Vienna for which we must prepare, but a retreat to Strassburg. Prince Eugene, now on the march to Vienna, will find the enemy there and perish in the trap. Our allies, made treacherous by weakness, will turn against us. The fortune of the Empire will be at an end! The grandeur of France will be destroyed! Davout and Massena, Lannes is dying, but you live, you will save the army!"

The impulsive Massena jumped up and seized the Emperor's hand.

"You are a man of courage, sire, and worthy to command us!" he cried.

"No! we must not fly like cravens who have been beaten! Fortune has not been kind to us, but we are victorious, nevertheless, for the enemy, who ought to have driven us into the Danube, have fallen before our positions. Let us cross only the small arm of the river, and I pledge my word to drown in it every Austrian who shall attempt to cross it in pursuit of us!"

And Davout said in his quiet way, "I will defend Vienna from any attack by way of Presburg, or Krems, during the renovation of the bridges."

"Your Majesty is right," said the Prince of Neufchatel. So the council broke up. The Marshal Massena returned to Aspern to superintend the passage of

the army to the island of Lobau, while Napoleon and the Prince of Neufchatel entered a boat to cross the main branch of the river to the right bank.

It was twelve at night, and the darkness dense and black, and the great flood rolled along the timbers and debris, which the Austrians above Aspern kept sending down the stream.

Row steadily, boatmen, be not dismayed by the darkness of the night or the surging of the Danube! You will reach the shore in safety—you bear "Caesar and his fortunes!"

CHAPTER XVI

The Duke Of Montebello

The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armor against fate;

Death lays his icy hands on kings.

—Shirley, Contention of Ajax and Ulysses.

FATIGUE clips the laurels of victory. After his exertion at Essling, Pierre was greatly depressed; nature demanded her due. But although he lacked rest, he did not lack misfortune. He was frying a piece of bacon with Andre Marceau when Francois Legrand came running toward them. "Here's a biscuit for you, Francois," said Andre. Francois reached the fire and stopped. He paid no attention to Andre's biscuit; he swore. Now, there are different degrees of swearing. There is the oath habitual, the oath circumstantial, the oath terrible, and the oath artistic. Francois' swearing combined the last two. He cursed the Austrians alive and dead; he cursed them in monosyllables and in sentences; he consigned them individually and collectively to the depths of hell, while against the gunners of Enzersdorf in particular he hurled a whirlwind of blasphemy. Pierre and Andre looked in surprise.

"What's happened?" said Pierre.

"Ajax' is killed!" cried Francois, and he sobbed.