And then had come the flight, and he told how, the night before, the Queen had slept in a room whose windows were so broken the snow had drifted in all night over her bed and nearly frozen her.
There was much to talk about, and all were eager to listen. The warmth from the stove was comfortable, and the shoemaker brought out some beer. The driver, who certainly was fond of talking, told of the sufferings of the Royal children; how the old Countess had not been able always to get them bread, nor find clothes to keep them clean and in order.
"And they have grown most noisy," he said. "The Queen is an angel. Never does she complain, but is always sweet and amiable, and the old Countess is very noble. But our King is gloomy and wrapped in thought and no one reproves the children."
The shoemaker asked questions about them.
"Prince William is the best," said the man; "he looks like his father, but in disposition he is like our Queen. The old Countess calls him 'A dear good child,' and that he is always."
Before he could continue a messenger arrived from Memel with bouillon from the King for the Queen.
This arrival brought much excitement, and when again they were quiet they all fell to talking of the French and how the Emperor coveted the great fine city of Dantzic and of how its people vowed that he never should enter its gates while they could prevent him.
"Where is he now?" asked Hans, hatred burning in his eyes and his cheeks flushing.
"They say in Königsberg that he is at Helbsberg. Our army is in that neighbourhood, also. They report that both are approaching Eylau. Perhaps they may fight there."
The shoemaker's wife came into the roomful of men, interrupting a second time.