"What do you bring me, John," he asked hastily.
"Gracious Sir," answered the boy, "my relative begs respectfully to announce, that Ensign Herr Smil von Michalowitz is just arrived from Pilsen with a message to your Honour, and waits in your house."
"Good boy, run on, I will follow immediately."--Gabriel hastily donned cloak and cap and went out--Although the house which he was leaving was situated by the Old-synagogue and, therefore, outside of the Ghetto-gate, he was obliged to pass through the Ghetto in order to reach the Plattnergasse by the nearest route. He stopped at the back of a house. He knocked twice at a closed door; this was quickly opened, and he hurried up a back-staircase to a room, on the walls of which, sabres, travelling-pistols and other arms were hanging, crossed in varied confusion one upon the other. He threw off cloak and cap, girded a dagger about his loins, without lingering over the choice enveloped himself in a knight's mantle and stepped through a door in the tapestry into a large adjoining room. Here he was already expected. A slightly made young man in the embroidered uniform of one of Mannsfield's cavalry-officers was pacing impatiently up and down.--
"Welcome to Prague, Herr von Michalowitz," said Gabriel in a friendly way, "do you bring me good news from Mannsfield?"
"I wish I brought better, your Grace," answered the officer with a bow. "First of all, however, I have the honour to deliver the autograph despatch of the General-Fieldmarshal, I partly know its contents and am commissioned to give your Grace all further necessary explanations."
Gabriel hastily unsealed the despatch and cast a glance over its contents. "Our troops have still no pay," he cried, stamping his foot angrily, while the fiery mark on his forehead kindled to a deep red--"still nothing? and they promised me everything, money, munitions, forage, reinforcements. It's enough to drive a man mad! You would scarcely believe, Herr von Michalowitz, what a difficult position I am in here! Nothing can be done with this Frederick.--The Bohemians could not have elected a worse king.--He listens to his preachers, goes out hunting, gives banquets and tournaments--of Emperor and League he takes no heed.--His Generals are in constant feud with one another and only agree when it is a question of putting a slight upon or deposing Thurn and Mannsfield.--These gentlemen let me sue for reinforcements and plans of operation, as if they were things that concerned my own private advantage, as if I was asking an alms for myself. Believe me, Frederick must succumb. Who does he oppose to these experienced skilful Generals? an Anhalt against a Tilly, an Hohenlohe against a Boucquoi. The Bohemians are brave soldiers, but they are badly led. I can speak openly to you, Sir Ensign, who have been the constant confidant of our plans.--There is only one conceivable way for Frederick to get the upper-hand--Anhalt and Hohenlohe must be dismissed, and Matthias Thurn take the command."
"It is indeed melancholy," answered the Ensign bitterly, "that all our most energetic and best-laid efforts are so badly supported at Prague. This Anhalt gives up one strong position after another, and if things go on so, it is to be feared that Archduke Maximilian will drive the Prince in under the walls of Prague, and force him to accept a battle,--unless he has been entirely won over by the Imperialists--and a battle lost before the gates of Prague...."
"Would still not be decisive," interposed Gabriel. "I am well acquainted with Prague, it is strongly situated, and could hold out a long time.--I suppose you know the capital city of your native country? The citizens are brave, well-trained in arms, and in the old and new quarter at least devoted to the king's party.--Frederick's power is still great, Mannsfield manœuvres in the enemy's rear; fresh troops are on the march from Hungary.... Sir Ensign, say to my friend Mannsfield, that a battle lost before the gates of Prague would not put an end to the war;--but that Anhalt must not remain at the head of the army. So long as he commands in-chief, everything is at stake ... and to think that two such losers-of-armies as Anhalt and Hohenlohe should command thirty thousand men, while the hero Mannsfield, alone, forsaken by the Union and the weak Frederick for whom he is fighting, without support, without money, in an unknown country, surrounded by secret and open enemies, makes head with a small force against one three times his superior.--How does he bear the hard blows of fickle fortune?"
"With his usual calm, with unshakeable equanimity. Oh, there is but one Mannsfield, Sir Major-General, in such a hero alone do martial fame, and martial deeds attain so high a point. It is an event unparalleled in the annals of history, that a Count, first legitimized by the Emperor Rudolph, should defy the Emperor and whole Empire--should defy, without money, land, or support, under a ban, solitary, by the force of his sword and name alone.--What are all of us in Mannsfield's camp? are we the troops of the Union, which concluded on the 3d of July an ignominious peace with the league? are we the mercenaries of this Count Palatine, who placed the crown of our Fatherland upon his head for a merry pastime? By God and my knightly honour, no! What are we? we are nothing but Mannsfield's children, all of us, from the meanest artillery-driver up to you. Sir Major-General! We all cleave to him with faith as firm as a rock, we follow his standard alone, his call alone. We offer our lives for Mannsfield, his is our sword, our blood, our honour, our name, our oath; for well we know that he leads us on to naught but victory or an honourable soldier's death."
"You are very right. Sir Ensign," replied the General much moved, "he is to all of us a father, brother, friend! What should I have been if I had not fallen in with Mannsfield? Sir Ensign, you have a country, you have a coat of arms, you have a name--I had none of all this, I had nothing but my arm, and a revengeful, torn and bleeding heart!"--