The Electoress’s head suddenly dropped upon the arm of her chair. Pruckmann rushed to an adjoining apartment and sent her maids to her. He remained there but had not waited long when he heard her voice, which had been silenced by her convulsive weeping. When at last he was summoned he found her remarkably composed.
“Now, Pruckmann, give me, as far as you can, an exact account of what has occurred. Have you the news by word of mouth or by letter?”
“I received this letter two hours ago.”
“Leave it with me. I will read it later. Now tell me what you know.”
“Gracious Princess, I should not merit your confidence did I not tell you the whole truth.”
“Pruckmann, tell me everything, in the fewest words.”
“Your princely brother lost the devotion of the Bohemians in many ways: he showed himself too fond of splendor; he offended the Bohemian leaders in the army by disregarding the movements of the German general; and, worse still, he embittered the Bohemian Lutherans by his unmistakable expressions of contempt for their faith. I have known these things for several weeks, and you know that as far as it was my duty, I gave you intimations of them.”
“Yes; and I have not failed to communicate my opinions about these things to my brother freely, but as now appears in vain.”
“Your princely brother deemed himself too secure. His advisers must have failed in their duty. He soon discovered, however, the weakness of his situation. The Catholic princes rallied promptly at the call of the Emperor, but none of the princes who had joined the Protestant Union came at the King’s summons. The Elector of Saxony—he belongs, you know, to the Lutheran confession—sent word: ‘I would rather unite with the Turks than with you.’”
The Electoress was growing impatient. Pruckmann—and this was a frequent failing of his—dwelt upon matters which she knew already as well as he.