y
cannon, and many of our soldiers were wandering about the battle-field
looking at the batteries they had taken." [Footnote: Bodman.]

"Yes," said the fourth courier, sadly, "that was at six, but at seven
we were in full flight. Loudon had risen from the ground, and the
frightened, conquered Russians had recovered themselves. You left at
six, I at eight; I have ridden more rapidly than you. Unhappily, I am
right, the battle is lost!"

"The battle is lost!" howled the people; "the king is also lost! Woe!
woe!"

At this moment the royal equipages were seen making their way slowly
through the crowd, and the advance guard were praying the people to
open a way for the travelling carriages to reach the castle. These words
excited new alarm. "We are lost! Let us fly, let us fly! The court, the
queen, and the princesses flee--let us save ourselves! The Russians
will come to Berlin--they will annihilate us. We are deserted and lost,
lost!--no one knows where our king is!"

As if driven by madness, the crowds rushed against each other, like the
sea when it divides, and in billowy streams pours itself out here and
there; and the cry of anguish which now rang out from the castle square,
found its echo in every street and every house.

CHAPTER XI. AFTER THE BATTLE.

The cannon were silenced, the discharges of musketry had ceased. On the
great plain of Kunersdorf, where, a few hours before, a bloody battle
had been raging, all was quiet. Could this be called repose? How cruel
was the tranquillity which rested now upon this fearful battle-field!

It was the peace of death--the stillness which the awful messenger of
Heaven presses as a sign and seal of his love upon the pale lips of the
dead. Happy they whose immortal spirits were quickly wafted away by the
dread kiss--they no longer suffer. Woe to those who yet live, though
they belong to death, and who lie surrounded by grinning corpses! The
cold bodies of their comrades are the pillows upon which they lay their
bloody heads. The groans of the dying form the awful melody which awakes
them to consciousness; and the, starry sky of this clear, transparent
summer night is the only eye of love which bows down to them and looks
upon them in their agony.

Happy those whom the murderous sword and the crushing ball carried off
in an instant to the land of spirits! Woe, woe to those lying upon the
battle-field, living, breathing, conscious of their defeat and of their
great