“You shall be taken care of,” said the king.
“Will your majesty give me your hand upon this promise?”
This question was followed by deep silence. All present were gazing anxiously at the king and the old guard. The king advanced, and laid his hand in that of the old soldier.
“I swear, that any of you who are crippled, shall be taken care of.”
The old warrior turned with tearful eyes to his comrades.
“Well,” said he, “you hear him? he is and will continue to be the King of Prussia and our father. The one who deserts is a rascal.”
“Long live our Fritz!” and throughout the whole camp resounded the cry—“Long live our Fritz! Long live our king!”
“Onward! onward!” was the cry, for at the end of the plain the enemy could be seen approaching.
“Forward!” cried the soldiers, falling one by one into their places, as the king, followed by Lieutenant Frankenberg and his men, galloped past them.
A turn in the road showed the Prussians the enormous size of the enemy’s army. Silence prevailed for a few moments. Suddenly, here and there a voice could be heard singing a battle-hymn, and soon, accompanied by the band, the whole army was breathing out in song an earnest prayer to God.