The results were: eight hundred prisoners, two thousand dead or wounded, two cannon taken.
The king rode round the field of battle to complete his task by showing himself to the unhappy wounded.
Benedict had become an artist once more, and was dreaming of his picture. He was seated on the first piece of cannon which had been taken, and was sketching a general view of the battlefield. He saw that the prince was searching among the killed and wounded officers of the cuirassiers.
"Pardon, monseigneur," said he, "you are looking for the brave Captain Einem, are you not?"
"Yes," said the prince.
"There, monseigneur, there, on your left, in the midst of that heap of dead."
"Oh," said the prince, "I saw him doing miracles."
"Can you believe that after I had drawn him from under his horse, he stabbed six with his sabre? Then he was hit for the first time and fell. They thought he was dead, and threw themselves upon him. He raised himself on one knee and killed two, who cried to him to surrender. Then he stood upright and it was at that moment that the last surviving artilleryman sent a ball into his forehead, which killed him. As I was not able to save him, being too much occupied myself, I avenged him!"
Then, presenting his sketch to the prince as calmly as if in the studio:
"Do you think that is right?" he asked.