"What shall I read to your majesty?" asked Rothenberg, evidently embarrassed.
"You may read from Horace."
"Your majesty does not know—" said Rothenberg, hesitatingly.
"What do I not know?"
"That the pandours have carried off your camp library."
"What! my books too?" demanded the king, and a cloud darkened his brow. "What can the pandours and Croats do with my poor books? Could they not content themselves with my treasure and my silver-ware? Must they take what is so worthless to them, and so precious to me?"
Then, with bent brows, his hands crossed behind him, he paced back and forth in the narrow tent. Suddenly arresting his steps, he glanced around the tent, as if in search of something. "Biche is not here," he said quietly; "bring Biche to me, my friend."
But General Rothenberg did not move.
"Well!" exclaimed the king.
"Sire, they have taken Biche with them also."