Daun does not push him much; has Maxen safely burning
in every part.

From Schmorsdorf Finck pushes out a Cavalry charge on Brentano. "Could
we but repulse Brentano yonder," thinks he, "I might have those Four
Battalions to hand, and try again!" But Brentano makes such cannonading,
the Cavalry swerve to a Hollow on their right; then find they have not
ground, and retire quite fruitless. Finck's Cavalry, and the Cavalry
generally, with their horses all sliding on the frosty mountain-gnarls,
appear to be good for little this day. Brentano, victorious over the
Cavalry, comes on with such storm, he sweeps through the obtuse
angle, home upon Finck; and sweeps him out of Schmorsdorf Village to
Schmorsdorf Hill, there to take refuge, as the night sinks,--and to see
himself, if his wild heart will permit him to be candid, a ruined man.
Of the Three Attacks, Two have completely succeeded on him; only Wunsch,
at Dohna, stands victorious; he has held back the Reich all day,
and even chased it home to its posts on the Rothwasser (RED WATER),
multitudinous as it was.

Finck's mood, as the November shadows gathered on him,--the equal heart
may at least pity poor Finck! His resolution is fixed: "Cut ourselves
through, this night: Dohna is ours: other side that Red Water there are
roads;--perish or get through!" And the Generals (who are rallied now
"on the Heights of Falkenhain and Bloschwitz," midway between Maxen and
Dohna) get that Order from him. And proceed to arrange for executing
it,--though with outlook more and more desperate, as their scouts
report that every pass and post on the Red Water is beset by Reichsfolk.
"Wunsch, with the Cavalry, he at least may thread his way out, under
cloud of night, by the opposite or Daun side," calculates Finck. And
Wunsch sets out accordingly: a very questionable, winding, subterranean
march; difficult in the extreme,--the wearied SLIPshod horses going at
a snail's pace; and, in the difficult passes, needing to be dragged
through with bridle and even to be left altogether:--in which, withal,
it will prove of no use for Wunsch to succeed! Finck's Generals
endeavoring to rank and rearrange through the night, find that their
very cartridges are nearly spent, and that of men, such wounding, such
deserting has there been, they have, at this time, by precise count,
2,836 rank and file. Evidently desperate.

At daylight, Daun's cannon beginning again from the Maxen side, Finck
sends to capitula