There, on the straw that was scantily scattered on the dirty floor, lay the king, his hat drawn partially over his face, his unsheathed sword in his hand, sleeping as quietly as if he were at his bright and beautiful Sans-Souci. "Look!" whispered Charles Henry; "thus sleeps a king, over whom God watches! But now we must awaken him."
He advanced to the king, and kneeling beside him, whispered: "Your majesty, we have returned; we bring intelligence of the Russians and Austrians."
The king arose slowly, and pushed his hat back from his brow.
"Good or bad news?" he asked.
"Good news!" said Fritz. "The Austrians and Russians have both gone to bed; they were sleepy."
"And they have no idea of pursuing your majesty," continued Charles Henry. "Loudon wished it, but Soltikow refused; he will do nothing until Daun acts."
"So you sat with them in the council of war?" asked the king, smiling.
"Yes, we were present," said Fritz Kober, with evident delight; "I saw the council, and Charles Henry heard them."
The king stood up. "You speak too loud!" he said; "you will waken these two gentlemen, who are sleeping so well. We will go outside, and you can continue your report."
He crossed the room noiselessly, and left the hut. Then seating himself before the door, on a small bench, he told the two grenadiers to give him an exact account of what they had seen and heard.
Long after they had finished speaking, the king sat silent, and apparently lost in thought. His eyes raised to heaven, he seemed to be in holy communion with the Almighty. As his eyes slowly sank, his glance fell upon the two grenadiers who stood before him, silently respectful.
"I am pleased with you, children, and this time the promise shall be kept. You shall become subordinate officers."
"In the same company?" asked Fritz Kober.
"In the same company. That is," continued the king, "if I am ever able to form companies and regiments again."
"We are not so badly off as your majesty thinks," said Fritz Kober.
"Our troops have already recovered from their first terror, and as we returned we saw numbers of them entering the village. In a few hours the army can be reorganized."
"God grant that you may be right, my son!" said the king, kindly.
"Go, now, into the village, and repeat the news you brought me to the soldiers. It will encourage them to hear that the enemy sleep, and do not think of pursuing us. I will prepare your commissions for you to-day. Farewell, my children!"
He bent his head slightly, and then turned to re-enter the hut and awaken his two adjutants. With a calm voice he commanded them to go into the village, and order the generals and higher officers to assemble the remnants of their regiments before the hut.
"A general march must be sounded," said the king. "The morning air will bear the sound into the distance, and when my soldiers hear it, perhaps they will return to their colors."
When the adjutants left him, the king commenced pacing slowly up and down, his hands crossed behind him.
"All is lost, all!" he murmured; "but I must wait and watch. If the stupidity or rashness of the enemy should break a mesh in the net within which I am enclosed, it is my duty to slip through with my army. Ah!
how heavily this crown presses upon my head; it leaves me no moment of repose. How hard is life, and how terribly are the bright illusions of our earlier years destroyed!"
At the sound of the drum, the king shivered, and murmured to himself: "I feel now, what I never thought to feel. I am afraid my heart trembles at the thought of this encounter, as it never did in battle. The drums and trumpets call my soldiers, but they will not come. They are stretched upon the field of battle, or fleeing before the enemy. They will not come, and the sun will witness my shame and wretchedness."
The king, completely overcome, sank upon the bench, and buried his face in his hands. He sat thus for a long time. The sounds before the door became louder and louder, but the king heard them not; he still held his hands before his face. He could not see the bright array of uniforms that had assembled before the window, nor that the soldiers were swarming in from all sides. He did not hear the beating of drums, the orders to the soldiers, or military signals. Neither did he hear the door, which was gently opened by his adjutants, who had returned to inform him that his orders had been obeyed, and that the generals and staff officers were awaiting him outside the hut.
"Sire," whispered at length one of the adjutants, "your commands have been fulfilled. The generals await your majesty's pleasure."
The king allowed his hands to glide slowly from his face. "And the troops?" he asked.
"They are beginning to form."
"They are also just placing the cannon," said the second adjutant.
The king turned angrily to him. "Sir," he cried, "you lie! I have no cannon."
"Your majesty has, God be praised, more than fifty cannon," said the adjutant, firmly.
A ray of light overspread the countenance of the king, and a slight flush arose to his pale cheek. Standing up, he bowed kindly to the adjutants, and passed out among the generals, who saluted him respectfully, and pressed back to make way for their king. The king walked silently through their ranks, and then turning his head, he said:
"Gentlemen, let us see what yesterday has left us. Assemble your troops."
The generals and staff officers hurried silently away, to place themselves at the head of their regiments, and lead them before the king.
The king stood upright, his unsheathed sword in his right hand, as in the most ceremonious parade. The marching of the troops began, but it was a sad spectacle for their king. How little was left of the great and glorious army which he had led yesterday to battle! More than twenty thousand men were either killed or wounded. Thousands were flying and scattered. A few regiments had been formed with great trouble; barely five thousand men were now assembled. The king looked on with a firm eye, but his lips were tightly compressed, and his breath came heavily.
Suddenly he turned to Count Dolmer, the adjutant of the Grand Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick, who had arrived a few days before with the intelligence of a victory gained at Minden. The king had invited him to remain, "I am about to overpower the Russians, remain until I can give you a like message." The king was reminded of this as he saw the count near him.
"Ah," he said, with a troubled smile, "you are waiting for the message I promised. I am distressed that I cannot make you the bearer of better news. If, however, you arrive safely at the end of your journey, and do not find Daun already in Berlin, and Contades in Magdeburg, you can assure the Grand Duke Ferdinand from me that all is not lost. Farewell, sir."
Then, bowing slightly, he advanced with a firm step to the generals.
His eyes glowed and flashed once more, and his whole being reassumed its usual bold and energetic expression.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a clear voice, "fortune did not favor us yesterday, but there is no reason to despair. A day will come when we shall repay the enemy with bloody interest. I at least expect such a day; I will live for its coming, and all my thoughts and plans shall be directed toward that object. I strive for no other glory than to deliver Prussia from the conspiracy into which the whole of Europe has entered against her. I will obtain peace for my native land, but it shall be a great and honorable peace. I will accept no other: I would rather be buried under the ruins of my cannon, than accept a peace that would bring no advantages to Prussia, no fame to us Honor is the highest, the holiest possession of individuals, as it is of nations; and Prussia, who has placed her honor in our hands, must receive it from us pure and spotless. If you agree with me, gentlemen, join me in this cry, 'Long live Prussia! Long live Prussia's honor!'"
The generals and officers joined enthusiastically in this cry, and like a mighty torrent it spread from mouth to mouth, until it reached the regiments, where it was repeated again and again. The color-bearers unfurled their tattered banners, and the shout arose from thousands of throats, "Long live Prussia's honor!"
The king's countenance was bright, but a tear seemed to glitter in his eye. He raised his glance to heaven and murmured:
"I swear to live so long as there is hope, so long as I am free! I swear only to think of death when my liberty is threatened!" Slowly his glance returned to earth, and then in a powerful voice, he cried: "Onward!
onward! that has ever been Prussia's watch-word, and it shall remain so--Onward! We have a great object be fore us--we must use every effort to keep the Russians out of Berlin. The palladium of our happiness must not fall into the hands of our enemies. The Oder and the Spree must be ours--we must recover to-morrow what the enemy wrenched from us yesterday!"
"Onward! onward!" cried the army, and the words of the king bore courage and enthusiasm to all hearts.
Hope was awakened, and all were ready to follow the king; for however dark and threatening the horizon appeared, all had faith in the star of the king, and believed that it could never be extinguished.
BOOK V.
CHAPTER I. THE TERESIANI AND THE PRUSSIANI.
At the splendid hotel of the "White Lion," situated on the Canale Grande, a gondola had just arrived. The porter sounded the great house-bell, and the host hastened immediately to greet the stranger, who, having left the gondola, was briskly mounting the small white marble steps that led to the beautiful and sumptuous vestibule of the hotel.
The stranger returned the host's profound and respectful salutation with a stiff military bow, and asked in forced and rather foreign Italian if he could obtain rooms.