For nearly four hours more did the battle last in this point; but at length our hero came up with his cuirassiers, all flushed with conquest elsewhere; and his presence gave a decided turn to the struggle.
Rushing precipitately on—bearing down all before them—thundering along with an irresistible impetuosity, the cuirassiers scattered confusion and dismay in the ranks of their enemies. And ever foremost in that last struggle, as in the first, the waving heron's plume which marked his rank, and the death-dealing brand which he wielded with such fatal effect, denoted the presence of Richard Markham.
He saw that the day was his own;—the Austrians were flying in all directions;—confusion, disorder, and dismay prevailed throughout their broken corps and shattered bands;—Marshal Herbertstein was numbered with the slain;—the Grand Duke fled;—and at eight o'clock in the evening Montoni was delivered.
Darkness had now fallen on the scene of carnage; but still the Constitutionalists pursued the Austrian fugitives; and numbers were taken ere they could reach the river. A comparatively small portion of the vanquished succeeded in throwing themselves into the boats that were moored on the southern bank, or in gaining the adjacent bridges; and those only escaped.
Montoni saluted its deliverance with salvoes of artillery and the ringing of bells; and the joyous sounds fell upon the ears of the Grand Duke, as, heart-broken and distracted, he pursued his way, attended only by a few faithful followers, towards the frontiers of that State from which his rashness and despotism had driven him for ever.
Meantime, Richard Markham issued the necessary orders for the safeguard of the prisoners and the care of the wounded; and, having attended to those duties, he repaired to the village before mentioned, where he established his temporary head-quarters at the château of a nobleman devoted to the Constitutional cause.
Then, in the solitude of the chamber to which he had retired, and with a soul full of tenderness and hope, as in the morning in the grove of Legino,—he addressed a letter to the Princess—the only joy of his heart, the charming and well-beloved Isabella:—
Head Quarters, near Montoni, Jan. 23.
Eleven at night.
"Long ere this will reach thee, dearest one, thou wilt have heard, by means of telegraphic dispatch through France, of the great victory which has made me master of Castelcicala. If there be any merit due unto myself, in consummating this great aim, and conducting this glorious cause to its final triumph, it was thine image, beloved Isabella, which nerved my arm and which gave me intelligence to make the combinations that have led to so decided an end. In the thickest of the fight—in the midst of danger,—when balls whistled by me like hail, and the messengers of death were circulating in every direction,—thine eyes seemed to be guiding stars of hope, and promise, and love. And now the first moment that I can snatch from the time which so many circumstances compel me to devote to your native land, is given to thee!