“After I left your majesty, eight days ago, I went first to my estate, which, as your highness knows, lies near Bautzen, and in the immediate neighborhood of the King of Prussia’s camp. Disguised as a peasant, with my little flock of sheep, I entered the Prussian camp unchallenged. I wish your majesty could have had the satisfaction of seeing what I saw. Your royal heart would have been gladdened at the sight of those starved, exhausted, and desperate troops which Prince Augustus William led back from Zittau to his august brother, the great Frederick. You would have acknowledged with delight that such discouraged, demoralized troops could no longer withstand the splendid and victorious army of the confederates. The battle of Collin dug their graves, and the pass of Gabol made their coffins.”
“And the Saxon dragoons decided the battle of Collin?” said the queen, with sparkling eyes. “Go on! tell me more. Did you speak with the king’s chamberlain, Anderson?”
“Yes, your majesty, and I found him faithful. I gave him the diamond ring which your majesty was so gracious as to send him. He was delighted with this costly present, and swore he would let no opportunity pass of serving you. I told him how he might safely write to me. He will inform us of all that takes place in the Prussian camp, and of all the important movements of the king.”
“You are convinced of his integrity?” said the queen. “Entirely convinced; he loves money, and serves us for his own interests. He will be ready for any act, if we balance it with gold.” The eyes of the queen sparkled, and her countenance had a threatening and passionate expression; her Spanish blood was moved, and rushed in fever streams to her heart. “Is he ready for any act?” she repeated. “Perhaps we could make a decisive trial of his willingness; but of that, later—continue.”
“I learned from Anderson, that King Frederick intends to force the confederates to another battle. When I left the camp, the king had distributed rations to his army, and was to leave the next morning, to encounter Daun and Radasdy.” The queen laughed mockingly. “He then thirsts for a second Collin. As his grave is open and his coffin made, he wishes to get the Austrian grave-diggers to bury him. Well, we will not deny him this last service of love.”
“After leaving the Prussian camp,” continued the chamberlain, “I threw off my disguise, and hastened with post-horses to where Daun and Radasdy were quartered.”
“And you saw them?”
“I saw them; I was fortunate enough to be able to deliver your majesty’s letters to General Radasdy, and I can now give your highness the general’s answer, and some other important papers.” He drew a small etui from his bosom, out of which he took a penknife; then taking his hat, ripped off the gold galloon, cut the rim, and drew a paper from between the fur and the inner lining, which he handed to the queen, with a profound bow. While the queen was occupied breaking the seal and reading the letter, the chamberlain was busily engaged in restoring his hat to its former proportions. The queen’s pale face brightened more and more as she read; with joy and triumph she glanced from the paper at the chamberlain, and said, with a brilliant smile: “You are really a messenger of peace; a time will come when I can better reward your faithful services than by words. I beg you to open that door, and call Father Guarini.” The chamberlain obeyed her command, and Father Guarini entered. He greeted Schonberg with a gracious nod, then fixed his dark and piercing eyes upon the queen, who arose humbly to receive him. “I hope, venerable father, that you have heard the news, brought by our faithful baron?” said the queen, in a soft voice. “I have heard!” replied the Jesuit father, solemnly; “I have heard that God has delivered these heretics into our hands. We are the chosen people to free the world of these blasphemous adversaries of the Church.”
“What is your meaning?” asked the queen, with apparent surprise. Father Guarini looked at her significantly; a cruel smile played upon his thin, colorless lips. “My daughter, we understand each other fully,” said he, in a soft, low voice; “soul speaks to soul in such a crisis as this. When the baron handed you this letter, when he told you that the chamberlain of the King of Prussia was faithful to our holy cause, ready for any act you might approve, a door separated us; I could not look upon your countenance, and yet, my daughter, I read the secret thoughts of your heart. I saw your eyes sparkle, your lips smile, and understood your holy purpose.” The queen trembled, and stepped shudderingly back. “Holy father,” she murmured, “have compassion with a sinful thought, which I suppressed quickly, and which I will never listen to again.”
“Why do you call it a sinful thought?” said the priest, with a diabolical smile. “All weapons are blessed and made holy by God, when employed against heretics. The poison of the hemlock and the opium-plant is part of God’s holy creation. He made them as weapons for the just against the unjust, and, when used for pious purposes, they are sanctified means of grace. Be not ashamed of your great thought, my daughter; if Anderson is faithful, as the chamberlain asserts, with God’s help we will soon be able to bring this war to a close, and crush this unbelieving horde.”