"No! in heaven I will pray for my fatherland," said Prince Augustus William, mildly. He bowed respectfully, turned, and left the room.

Without stood the generals, maintaining a solemn silence. When they saw the prince appear at the door of the king's tent, so pale, so suffering, a prophetic warning filled every breast. It seemed to them that a dying man approached them, and with inexpressible sorrow held out his hand for a last farewell.

"It is pa.s.sed! The battle is ended!"

At this moment the adjutant of the king left the tent, and approached the generals, who stood near the prince.

"His majesty commands you to see that the soldiers of the third army corps are kept, as far as it is possible, entirely separated from the rest of the army. You will immediately convey the order to the king's army, that all intercourse between them and the third army corps is forbidden, as this corps seems to have lost all courage and all honorable feeling."

[Footnote: Kustrin, "Characteristics from the Life of Frederick the Great"]

"The king's commands shall be obeyed," said the generals, coldly.

The prince was completely overcome by this last blow, and leaned for a moment upon the arm of the Duke of Wurtemberg; he soon recovered himself, and turning to General Schultz, he said:

"Go and bring me, from the king, the watchword of the third army corps."

General Schultz withdrew, but returned quickly from the king's tent, with a dark frown upon his face.

"Well," said the prince, "have you the watchword?"

"No, your royal highness! The king says, that for cowards and fugitives he has no watchword, and he commanded me to go to the devil."

A murmur of rage was heard amongst the generals. The prince let his glance wander from one to the other of these dark faces.

"Gentlemen," said he, "the tempest will soon be over, and the sun will shine again for you; I am the only cloud now round about you, and I will withdraw."

"What! will you desert us?" said the generals, sadly.

"Do I not belong to the third army corps?" said the prince, with a painful smile. "It may be that the king will command his soldiers to have no intercourse with the commander of the third army corps, and you can understand that I prefer to antic.i.p.ate him."

"Will your highness allow me to accompany you?" said the Duke of Bevern.

"I also will not allow myself to be despised and railed at without any opportunity accorded me of explanation."

The prince shook his head.

"You must remain, general; the army cannot spare its brave leaders. I, however--I must go. I will be the peace-offering for you all. I am sure this will content my brother the king."

"Allow me, at least, to accompany your royal highness," said General Schmettau. "The king commanded me, through his adjutant, to withdraw, and never dare to present myself before his eyes again. I also must leave the army."

The prince gave him his hand.

"You are, then, a welcome companion. Let us ride on to Bautzen, where we can refresh ourselves, and then go on to Dresden."

"Will you really leave us?" said the Duke of Wurtemberg, sadly.

"Would you have me wait for still further degradation?" said the prince.

"No, it is enough--more than I can bear.--My horse! General, let us mount."

The two horses were brought forward. The generals placed themselves in front, to take leave of their former commander-in-chief, with all military honor.

Prince Augustus rode slowly on. Everywhere he met sad faces and eyes filled with tears. Tears indeed were in his own eyes, but he would not weep--not now; there was time enough for tears. He could weep during the sad remainder of his life. He forced his voice to be firm, and, waving his sword to the generals, as a last greeting, he said:

"I hope no one of you will hold me for a coward. I am forced by the king to leave the army." He turned his horse, and, followed by Schmettau, with head erect, he moved slowly off.

"Now, by Heaven," cried Ziethen, "he shall not leave the camp in this contemptible way! I will give him a suitable guard. Let the king rage; I can stand it!" He nodded to an officer. "Listen, Von Wendt, take half a company for a guard, and follow immediately behind the prince, to Bautzen."

A few moments later, an officer sprang along the highway to Bautzen, accompanied by his hussars; they soon overtook the prince, who greeted them kindly.

"Schmettau," said he, "Death avoided me so long as I was on the battle-field, now I bear him along with me; and thus must it be, till the pale king of terrors carries me to another world." He turned his eyes away from the Prussian camp, and rode slowly to Bautzen.

CHAPTER IX. THE LETTERS.

A few hours later a courier rode into the camp. He came from Bautzen, and had a letter from the Prince of Prussia to his royal brother. The king was still in his tent, busily engaged in looking over the army list. He took his brother's letter, and, opening it with evident anger, read:

"Your majesty's commands, and the incidents of our last meeting, have taught me that I have lost my honor and my reputation. As I have nothing to reproach myself with, this causes me much sorrow, but no humiliation.

I am convinced that I was not actuated by obstinacy, and that I did not follow the advice of incompetent men. All the generals in the third army corps commanded by me, will testify to this. I consider it necessary to request your majesty to have my conduct investigated. Your majesty would thereby do me a kindness. I have, therefore, no right to count upon it.

My health is much impaired since the war. I have withdrawn to Bautzen for its restoration, and have requested the Duke of Bevern to give you all the information relative to the army. In spite of my unhappiness, my daily prayer is, and shall be, that every undertaking of your majesty shall be crowned with glory."

"Your unhappy brother, AUGUSTUS WILLIAM."

The king read this letter several times; then taking up his pen, he wrote hastily: "MY DEAR BROTHER: Your improper conduct has greatly disturbed my equanimity. Not my enemies, but your want of principle, has caused all these disasters. My generals are not to be excused. They have either given you bad advice, or have agreed too readily to your foolish plans. The one is as bad as the other. Your ears are accustomed to flattery, my brother. Daun did not flatter you, and you now see the consequences. But little hope remains. I shall commence the attack--if we do not conquer, we shall die together. I do not bewail the loss of your heart, but rather your utter incapacity and want of judgment. I tell you this plainly, for with one who has perhaps but a few days to live, there is no use of deception. I wish you more happiness than has fallen to my lot, and hope that your misfortunes and disappointments may teach you to act with more wisdom and judgment where matters of importance are concerned. Many of the painful events I now look forward to, I ascribe to you. You and your children will suffer from their results much more than myself. Be a.s.sured that I have always loved you, and will continue to do so until my death. Your brother, FREDERICK."

When the king had finished his letter, he read it over. "I cannot take back one word I have said," murmured he, softly. "Were he not my brother, he should be court-martialled. But history shall not have to relate more than one such occurrence of a Hohenzollern. Enough family dramas and tragedies have occurred in my reign to furnish scandalous material for future generations; I will not add to them. My brother can withdraw quietly from these scenes--he can pray while we fight--he can cultivate the peaceful arts while we are upon the battle-field, offering up b.l.o.o.d.y sacrifices to Mars. Perhaps we will succeed in gaining an honorable peace for Prussia, and then Augustus William may be a better king than I have been. Prussia still clings to me--she needs me."

He sealed the letter, then calling his valet, ordered him to send it off immediately. As he disappeared, the king's countenance became once more clouded and disturbed. "Life makes a man very poor," said he, softly; "the longer he lives, the more solitary he becomes. How rich I was when I began life--how rich when I mounted the throne! Possessing many friends, sisters, brothers, and many charming illusions. The world belonged to me then, with all its joy, all its glory. And now? Where are these friends? Lost to me, either by death or inconstancy! Where are my brothers, sisters? Their hearts have turned from me--their love has grown cold! Where are my joyous illusions? Scattered to the winds! Alas, I am now undeceived, and if the whole world seemed at one time to belong to me, that little spot of earth, paid for with blood and anguish, is no longer mine. Every illusion but one has been torn from my heart--the thirst for glory still remains. I have bid adieu to love, to happiness, but I still believe in fame, and must at least have one laurel-wreath upon my coffin. May death then strike me at his will--the sooner the better, before my heart has become perfectly hardened! And I feel that time is not far distant."

The curtain of his tent was at this moment drawn back, and his secretary, Le Catt, whose acquaintance he had made during his visit to Amsterdam, entered with several letters in his hand. The king advanced eagerly to meet him.

"Well, Le Catt," said he, "has the courier come from Berlin?"

"Yes, sire, he has come," said Le Catt, sighing, "but I fear he brings no good news."

"No good news? Has the enemy forced his way so far?"

"An enemy has, sire; but not the one your majesty is thinking of!"

"How know you what enemy I mean?" said the king, impatiently. "Is it the Russians, or the French?"

"None of your mortal enemies, sire; and the mourning which now reigns in Berlin and will soon reign throughout Prussia, is caused by no enemy of your majesty but by Providence."

The king looked at him earnestly for a moment. "I understand," said he.

"Some one of my family has died; is it not so?"