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 led to retreat; were pursued, and a horrid slaughter marked their sanguinary fury.

The Count and Ferdinand did all that men could do; they fought like lions; they were beat back several times: Again they rallied and returned to the charge; but though well supported, all availed not; the numbers were too powerful, and the friends fell desperately wounded among the dying and the dead.—The Imperialists were obliged to fly, and the honour of the day rested with the Turks.—By a piece of singular good fortune, the two wounded friends were discovered by a Turkish commander, who perceived they still breathed, though life seemed hovering on their lips, and their wounds pouring forth torrents of blood. The officer who observed their situation, was not deficient in the feelings of humanity; he exerted himself, and called in assistance to stop the bleeding, and bind up their wounds. They were carried to his tent, and properly attended. Insensible alike to his cares or their own danger, they remained