ove not in me the man, but the king. But my mother
loved not the king the warrior; she loved her son with her whole heart,
and God knows he had but that one heart to trust in. Leave me, Le Catt.
Seek not to console me. Soon the king will gain the mastery. Now I am
but the son, who wishes to be alone with the mother. Go." Fearing he had
wounded Le Catt, he pressed his hand tenderly.

Le Catt raised it to his lips and covered it with kisses and tears. The
king withdrew it gently, and signed to him to leave the room.

Now he was alone--alone with his pain, with his grief--alone with his
mother. And, truly, during this hour he was but the loving son; his
every thought was of his mother; he conversed with her, he wept over
her; but, as his sorrow became more subdued, he took his flute from the
table, the one constant companion of his life. As the soft, sweet tones
were wafted through the tent, he seemed to hear his mother whispering
words of love to him, to feel her hallowed kiss upon his brow. And now
he was king once more. As he heard without the sound of trumpets, the
beating of drums, the loud shouts and hurrahs of his soldiers, a new
fire burned in his eyes, he laid his flute aside, and listened for
a time to the joyous shouts; then raising his right hand, he said:
"Farewell, mother; you died out of despair for my defeat at Collin, but
I swear to you I will revenge your death and my defeat tenfold upon my
enemies when I stand before them again in battle array. Hear me, spirit
of my mother, and give to your son your blessing!"

CHAPTER X. IN THE CASTLE AT DRESDEN.

The Queen Maria Josephine of Poland, Princess elect of Saxony, paced her
room violently; and with deep emotion and painful anxiety she listened
to every noise which interrupted the stillness that surrounded her.

"If he should be discovered," she murmured softly, "should this letter
be found, all is betrayed, and I am lost."

She shuddered, and even the paint could not conceal her sudden pallor.
She soon raised herself proudly erect, and her eyes resumed their usual
calm expression.

"Bah! lost," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "who will dare to seize
a queen and condemn her for fighting for her honor and her country?
Only the insolent and arrogant Margrave of Brandenburg could have the
temerity to insult a queen and a woman in my person, and he, thank God,
is crushed and will never be able to rally. But where is Schonberg," she
said, uneasil