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Popular with his soldiers as an old shoe that has proved its worth, he got a send-off such as few commanders have rated. After the fall of Belgrade, when the army was being demobilized, Eugene rode quietly away in his dusty brown coat. Behind him his veterans raised a spontaneous ditty which soon all Austria was singing: "Prinz Eugen der edle Ritter . . ." ("Prince Eugene the noble Knight"). His career had been a success; he had shown the world. But he got no rest on his hard-won laurels. He was over 70 when for the last time he led an army against the French. Outnumbered four to one, he maneuvered skilfully, fought no decisive action. Tired almost to death, he went back to the daily political grind in Vienna. One morning his servant found him with his boots off at last.