nd irretrievably ruin both fore-arm and shoulder-arm
of the Austrians thereby.

Fore-arm (Austrian right wing, if still struggling and wriggling about
Sterbohol) is taken in flank; shoulder-arm, or main line, the like;
we have them both in flank; with their own batteries to scour them to
destruction here:--the Austrian Line, throughout, is become a ruin.
Has to hurl itself rapidly to rightwards, to rearwards, says Tempelhof,
behind what redoubts and strong points it may have in those parts; and
then, by sure stages (Tempelhof guesses three, or perhaps four), as one
redoubt after another is torn from the loose grasp of it, and the stand
made becomes ever weaker, and the confusion worse,--to roll pell-mell
into Prag, and hastily close the door behind it. The Prussians,
Sterbohol people, Mannstein-Henri people, left wing and right, are quite
across the Zisca Back, on by Nussel (Prince Earl's head-quarter that
was), and at the Moldau Brink again, when the thing ends. Ziethen's
Hussars have been at Nussel, very busy plundering there, ever since that
final charge and chase from Sterbohol. Plundering; and, I am ashamed
to say, mostly drunk: "Your Majesty, I cannot rank a hundred sober,"
answered Ziethen (doubtless with a kind of blush), when the King applied
for them. The King himself has got to Branik, farther up stream. Part
of the Austrian foot fled, leftwards, southwards, as their right wing
of horse had all done, up the Moldau. About 16,000 Austrians are
distractedly on flight that way. Towards, the Sazawa Country; to unite
with Daun, as the now advisable thing. Near 40,000 of them are getting
crammed into Prag; in spite of Prince Karl, now recovered of his cramp,
and risen to the frantic pitch; who vainly struggles at the Gate
against such inrush, and had even got through the Gate, conjuring and
commanding, but was himself swum in again by those panic torrents of
ebb-tide.

Rallying within, he again attempted, twice over, at two different
points, to get out, and up the Moldau, with his broken people; but the
Prussians, Nussel-Branik way, were awake to him: "No retreat up the
Moldau for you, Austrian gentlemen!" They tried by another Gate, on the
other side of the River; but Keith was awake too: "In again, ye Austrian
gentlemen! Closed gates here too. What else?" Browne, from his bed of
pain (death-bed, as it proved), was for a much more determined outrush:
"In the dead of night, rank, deliberately adjust yourselves; sto