“The friend of Goethe and Schiller!” exclaimed the queen.
“The duke places his battalion of riflemen at our disposal, and will accept a command in the war.”
“There will be war, then?” asked the queen, joyfully.
“Yes, there will be war,” said the king, sadly.
“You say so and sigh,” exclaimed Louisa.
“Yes, I sigh,” replied the king. “I am not as happy as you and those who are in favor of war. I do not believe in the invincibility of my army. I feel that we cannot be successful. There is an indescribable confusion in the affairs of the war department; the gentlemen at the head of it, it is true, will not believe it, and pretend that I am still too young and do not understand enough about it. Ah, I wish from the bottom of my heart I were mistaken. The future will soon show it.” [Footnote: The king’s own words.—Vide Henchel von Donnersmark.]
CHAPTER LXI. A BAD OMEN.
The decisive word had been uttered! Prussia was at length going to draw the sword, and take revenge for years of humiliation.