The officer murmured a few incomprehensible words.
"Will you answer me?" said the king; "is your horse just from the stable—are you directly from your bed?"
Frederick von Trenck's head had been bowed humbly upon his breast, he now raised it boldly up; he was resolved; his fierce eyes met those of the king. "No, your majesty," said he, with a cool, composed mien, "my horse is not from the stable—I am not from my bed."
There was a pause, an anxious, breathless pause. Every eye was fixed observantly upon the king, whose severity in military discipline was known and feared.
"Do you know," said the king at last, "that I command my officers to be punctual at parade?"
"Yes, sire."
"Do you know that it is positively forbidden to leave Potsdam without permission?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Well, then, since this was known to you, where have you been? You confess that you do not come from your dwelling?"
"Sire, I was on the chase, and loitered too long. I know I am guilty of a great misdemeanor, and I expect my pardon only from the grace of my king."