me pale, and pressed his lips tightly together,
as if to suppress a cry of horror. Then advancing, followed by his
generals, to where his weary, wounded soldiers were lying, he said:

"Children, is this all that is left of you?"

"Yes, father, we are the last," said an old gray-headed officer,
standing before the king. "There were many thousands of us, now there
are two hundred and fifty."

"Two hundred and fifty!" repeated the king, with a bitter smile.

"And it was not our fault," continued the old officer, "that we did not
fall with the rest. We fought as bravely as they; but Death did not want
us. Perhaps he thought it best to leave a few of us, to guard our king.
We all think so! Some were left to repay those abominable Saxons for
their to-day's work."

"And why alone the Saxons?" asked the king.

"Because it was those infamous Saxon troops that hewed down our
regiment. They fell upon us like devils, and striking their cursed
swords into us, cried out, 'This is for Striegau!'"

"Ah! you see," cried the king, "that while beating you, they could but
think of the many times you had conquered them."

"They shall think of this again, father," said another soldier, raising
himself with great pain from the ground. "Wait until our wounds have
healed, and we will repay them with interest."

"You are wounded, Henry?" said the king.

"Yes, your majesty, in the arm."

"And old Klaus?"

"Is dead!"

"And Fritz Verder?"

"Dead! He lies with the others upon the battle-field. There are seven
hundred and fifty of us in heaven, and only two hundred and fifty on
earth. But those above, as well as below, still cry--'Long live our
king!'"

"Long live our king," cried they all, rising.

The king made no reply; his eye passed from one to the other pale,
exhausted countenance, and an inexpressible sorrow overcame him.

"Dead!" murmured he, "my faithful guards dead! seven hundred and fifty
of my choice men have fallen." And overpowered by his emotion, the king
did not force back the tears welling to his eyes. They stole softly down
his cheek, and Frederick was not ashamed. He did not blush, because his
warriors had seen him weep.

"Children," cried the old officer, after a pause, and wiping the tears
from his weary eyes, "from now on it will be glorious to die, for when
we are dead, our king weeps for us."

CHAPTER VIII. THE INIMICAL BROTHERS.

"The king comes! The king is entering Bautzen!"

This announc