After he had recovered from his wounds, his commanding officer, who had noticed his fearless daring, a quality so valuable in the skirmishing duty to which his corps were appointed, sent for him, and offered to promote him. “Sir,” said Reginald, modestly, “I thank you heartily, but I must decline the honour you propose to me. I am too inexperienced to lead others; my friend and comrade, Ethelston, is three years my senior; in action he is always by my side, sometimes before me; he has more skill or riper judgment; any promotion, that should prefer me before him, would be most painful to me.” He bowed and withdrew. On the following day, the same officer, who had mentioned Reginald’s conduct to the Archduke, presented both the friends, from him, with a gold medal of the Emperor; a distinction the more gratifying to Reginald, from his knowledge that _he_ had been secretly the means of bringing his friend’s merit into the notice of his commander. They served through the remainder of that campaign, when the arms of the contending parties met with alternate success: towards its close, the Archduke having skilfully effected his object of uniting his forces to the corps d’armée under General Wartenleben, compelled the French to evacuate Franconia, and to retire towards Switzerland. This retreat was conducted with much skill by General Moreau; several times did the French rear–guard make an obstinate stand against the pursuers, among whom Reginald and his comrades were always the foremost. On one occasion, the French army occupied a position so strong that they were not driven from it without heavy loss on both sides; and even after the force of numbers had compelled the main body to retire, there remained a gallant band who seemed resolved to conquer or die upon the field. In vain did the Austrian leaders, in admiration of their devoted valour, call to them to surrender: without yielding an inch of ground, they fell fighting where they stood. Reginald made the most desperate efforts to save their young commander, whose chivalrous appearance and brilliantly decorated uniform made him remarkable from a great distance: several times did he strike aside a barrel pointed at the French officer; but it was too late; and when at length, covered with dust, and sweat, and blood, he reached the spot, he found the young hero, whom he had striven to save, stretched on the ground by several mortal wounds in his breast; he saw, however, Reginald’s kind intention, smiled gratefully upon him, waved his sword over his head, and died.