"Call the servants," added she. "Tell them to take out my dresses!"
Zaklika rushed out and called the servants, then sat on the stairs, silent, full of grief, half-dead, unable to move.
The day was bright. They counted minutes and seconds. Merciless soldiers slashed at the peasants, urging them to work; the batteries were rising before their eyes. It was a most charming May morning. The scented trees were sprinkled with dew; all nature, like a baby in the cradle, was awake smiling. Amid the quietude of nature, everything in the castle was noisy, moving, seething like a bee hive.
The soldiers dressed in their best uniforms; the officers in new armour. The commandant learned, to his great despair, that the King's provisions were not coming to Pillnitz, and it was necessary to receive the lord. What could they find worthy of His Majesty's palate? They killed a couple of deer in the park, they found a few bottles of wine; but how could the simplicity of the camp table agree with the King's accustomed luxury! In fact they had only one decent glass with the arms of Saxony worthy of lordly lips, but the plates and the other things were very poor. The priest lent a table cloth from the church; the innkeeper furnished a great many things.
The cannons were placed in the batteries. It was already four o'clock--at any moment they might expect the King, who said he would leave Pillnitz at daybreak. The commandant put a soldier on the tower, to let him know when he should perceive dust on the road. The artillerymen aimed the cannons so as to be sure the balls would strike the rock.
Everything was ready when the soldier on the tower gave the signal. At that moment the mayor of the town, with the councillors carrying a rusty key on a tray, went out on the road. In the church, ringers were ready to receive the lord with a peal of bells. The inhabitants of the town were dressed in their best clothes, and crowded the streets and market square.
The clouds of dust approached swiftly, and at last they perceived, galloping at the head on a magnificent steed, a good-looking, majestic man. He was followed by aides-de-camp and a small retinue of courtiers and guests.
At the gate the King hardly nodded; the mayor and his councillors bent to the ground; he went immediately in the direction of the castle. Here the garrison was drawn up at the gate; the drum was beaten and the commandant came out with a report. But the King seemed uneasy and in bad humour. He did not say a word to anybody. He turned his horse to the battery at Röhrpforts, looked for a while, and then hurried to Hannewalde. In front of that battery there rose a black mass of basalt rock. From here the St. John's tower and its windows, in one of which was a white figure, could be clearly distinguished. But the King did not raise his eyes.
At that moment General Wackerbarth arrived from Dresden, and stood behind the King in silence. Augustus was in a hurry: he nodded. The artillerymen put a light to the touch-hole of the cannon, and there was a loud report which was echoed in the surrounding mountains. A sharp ear could catch at the same moment a dreadful cry of despair and grief. The King, however, could neither see nor hear anything, his attention being absorbed by the cannon and the result of the firing.
The first shot directed at the wall built of basalt, made a hole in it, but the iron ball was broken into pieces. The commandant brought some pieces to the King, who deigned to look at them, and shrugged his shoulders. The other shot was directed at the rock itself; the ball was broken into pieces, but the rock withstood the blow.