n were no longer looked upon even as prisoners, but as strangers
and travellers, and therefore they should receive the honors of the
city. [Footnote: Sulzer writes: "The prisoners of war are treated here
as if they were distinguished travellers and visitors."]

The king commanded that these officers should receive all attention.
It was also the imperative will of the king that court balls should be
given; he wished to prove to the world that his family were neither sad
nor dispirited, but gay, bold, and hopeful.

CHAPTER II. THE THREE OFFICERS.

It was the spring of 1759. Winter quarters were broken up, and it was
said the king had left Breslau and advanced boldly to meet the enemy.
The Berlin journals contained accounts of combats and skirmishes which
had taken place here and there between the Prussians and the allies, and
in which, it appeared, the Prussians had always been unfortunate.

Three captive officers sat in an elegant room of a house near the
castle, and conversed upon the news of the day, and stared at the
morning journals which lay before them on the table.

"I beg you," said one of them in French--"I beg you will have the
goodness to translate this sentence for me. I think it has relation
to Prince Henry, but I find it impossible to decipher this barbarous
dialect." He handed the journal to his neighbor, and pointed with his
finger to the paragraph.

"Yes, there is something about Prince Henry," said the other, with a
peculiar accent which betrayed the Russian; "and something, Monsieur
Belleville, which will greatly interest you."

"Oh, I beseech you to read it to us," said the Frenchman, somewhat
impatiently; then, turning graciously to the third gentleman who sat
silent and indifferent near him, he added: "We must first ascertain,
however, if our kind host, Monsieur le Comte di Ranuzi, consents to the
reading."

"I gladly take part," said the Italian count, "in any thing that is
interesting; above all, in every thing which has no relation to this
wearisome and stupid Berlin."

"Vraiment! you are right." sighed the Frenchman. "It is a dreary and
ceremonious region. They are so inexpressibly prudish and virtuous--so
ruled with old-fashioned scruples--led captive by such little
prejudices that I should be greatly amused at it, if I did not suffer
daily from the dead monotony it brings. What would the enchanting
mistress of France--what would the Marquise de Pompadour say, if she
could se