“I have not the courage to open the door,” whispered Fritz Kober. “I fear that the king is no longer here. The Cossacks have captured him.”
“God has not permitted that,” said Charles Henry, solemnly; “I believe that He has guarded the king in our absence. Come, we will go to his majesty.”
They opened the door and entered, and then both stood motionless, awed and arrested by what they beheld.
There, on the straw that was scantily scattered on the dirty floor, lay the king, his hat drawn partially over his face, his unsheathed sword in his hand, sleeping as quietly as if he were at his bright and beautiful Sans-Souci. “Look!” whispered Charles Henry; “thus sleeps a king, over whom God watches! But now we must awaken him.”
He advanced to the king, and kneeling beside him, whispered: “Your majesty, we have returned; we bring intelligence of the Russians and Austrians.”
The king arose slowly, and pushed his hat back from his brow.
“Good or bad news?” he asked.
“Good news!” said Fritz. “The Austrians and Russians have both gone to bed; they were sleepy.”
“And they have no idea of pursuing your majesty,” continued Charles Henry. “Loudon wished it, but Soltikow refused; he will do nothing until Daun acts.”
“So you sat with them in the council of war?” asked the king, smiling.