ajesty; we have been hungry and thirsty a long time,"
said Grabow.

The king smiled. "See, now, you think they are lost, and yet they have
healthy stomachs; so long as a man is hungry he will not die."

The surgeon opened his case of instruments and commenced to dress the
wounds. The king watched him for a long time, then stooped down and
said, tenderly, "Children, do not despair; I will learn how it goes with
you, and if you are no longer fit for service, I will take care of you.
Believe that I will not forget you." He bowed kindly and left the room.
His adjutants were awaiting him at the door of the tent. [Footnote: The
king's own words. The whole scene is historical. These two officers,
whom the king saved in this way from death, recovered rapidly. After
they were completely restored, they again took part in the contest,
and were again severely wounded at Kolberg. They served until peace
was declared, and then retired on the invalid list, and, by the express
order of the king, were most kindly cared for.--See Nicolai.] The king
signed to them to follow him, and stepping rapidly through the village,
he passed by the huts from which loud cries of anguish and low murmurs
were heard.

"Ah," cried Frederick, "Dante did not know all the horrors of hell, or
he forgot to paint those I now suffer." He hastened on--on--on, in the
obscure twilight of the summer night, pursued by the sighs and groans
of his dying and wounded soldiers; a deep, immeasurable sadness lay
upon his brow; his lips were trembling; cold perspiration stood upon his
forehead; his eyes wandered over the battle-field, then were raised
to heaven with a questioning and reproachful expression. Already the
village lay far behind him; but he hurried on, he had no aim, no object;
he wished only to escape this hell, this cry of despair and woe from the
condemned. An adjutant dared at last to step forward and awake him from
his sad mood.

"Sire," said he, "the Cossacks are swarming in every direction, and if
your majesty goes on, the most fearful results may be anticipated. The
Cossacks shoot at every man who wears a good coat."

The king shook his head sadly. "There is no ball for me," said he in a
low tone; "I have in vain called upon death. I have prayed in mercy for
a ball; it came, but it only grazed my breast. No, no--there is no ball
for me!" He advanced, and the adjutant dared once more to interrupt him.

"Sire," said he, "will not your majesty seek ni