at voice that generally had such
power over his soldiers; he called them to him, and pointed out to
them the enemy's battery; he ordered the band to play a martial air
to inspire the men. This call brought a few faithful soldiers around
him--only forty warriors were ready to follow their king.

"Forward! we will take the battery!" cried he, as he pressed on,
regardless of the shower of the enemy's balls.

What was this to him? what had he to do with death--he whose only
thought was for the honor and glory of his army? If he succeeded in
taking this battery, it would encourage his desponding soldiers. They
would once more believe in the star of their king, and assemble bravely
around him. This it was that gave hope to the king.

Without once looking back, he pressed onward to the battery--when
suddenly, amid the clatter of trumpets and the roar of cannon, this
fearful question reached him:

"Sire, would you take the battery alone?"

The king reined in his horse and looked behind him. Yes, he was alone;
no one was with him but his adjutant, Major von Grant, who had asked
this question.

A deep groan escaped the king; his head fell upon his breast, and he
gave himself up to the bitterness of despair.

A cannon-ball fell beside him--he did not heed it; he was too utterly
wretched. Another ball struck his horse, causing it to prance with pain
and terror.

Major Grant grasped the king's bridle.

"Sire," said he, "are you determined to be shot? If so, let me know it,
and with your majesty's permission I will withdraw." The king raised his
head, and looked at the daring adjutant with a bitter smile.

"We will both withdraw," said he, gently, advancing toward the generals
who had been seeking him throughout the battle-field. He greeted them
with a silent bow, and passed without a word. Whither he was now going,
none of the generals knew, but they followed him in silence.

The king rode up the slight eminence from which, on that morning,
his army had fallen like a glittering avalanche upon the enemy. This
avalanche was now transformed into a stream of blood, and corpse upon
corpse covered the ground. He reined in his horse and gazed at the
Austrian army, who were now withdrawing to their camp, midst shoutings
and rejoicings, to rest after their glorious victory. Then, turning his
horse, he looked at the remains of his little army flying hither and
thither in the disorder of defeat. A deep sigh escaped him. Throwing h