I was at home on the French borders. My mother was from Alsace,
and there I learned French."

"You understand every thing," murmured Fritz, "but for myself, I am a
poor stupid blockhead, and the king will laugh at me, for I have nothing
to tell. I shall not get my commission."

"Then neither will I, Fritz; and, besides, as to what we have seen, you
have as much to tell as I. You heard with your eyes and I with my ears,
and the great point arrived at you know as much about as I do. The
Russians and Austrians are sleeping quietly, not thinking of pursuing
us. That's the principal point."

"Yes, that's true; that I can also assure the king--that will please him
best. Look! Charles Henry, the day is breaking! Let us hasten on to the
king. When he knows that the Austrians and Russians sleep, he will think
it high time for the Prussians to be awake."

CHAPTER XV. A HERO IN MISFORTUNE.

The two grenadiers returned unharmed to the village where the king had
at present established his headquarters. The first rays of the morning
sun were falling upon the wretched hut which was occupied by his
majesty. The peaceful morning quiet was unbroken by the faintest sound,
and, as if Nature had a certain reverence for the hero's slumber, even
the birds were hushed, and the morning breeze blew softly against the
little window, as if it would murmur a sleeping song to the king. There
were no sentinels before the door; the bright morning sun alone was
guarding the holy place where the unfortunate hero reposed.

Lightly, and with bated breath, the two grenadiers crept into the open
hut. The utter silence disturbed them. It seemed incredible that they
should find the king in this miserable place, alone and unguarded. They
thought of the hordes of Cossacks which infested that region, and that
a dozen of them would suffice to surround this little hut, and make
prisoners of the king and his adjutants.

"I have not the courage to open the door," whispered Fritz Kober. "I
fear that the king is no longer here. The Cossacks have captured him."

"God has not permitted that," said Charles Henry, solemnly; "I believe
that He has guarded the king in our absence. Come, we will go to his
majesty."

They opened the door and entered, and then both stood motionless, awed
and arrested by what they beheld.

There, on the straw that was scantily scattered on the dirty floor, lay
the king, his hat drawn partially over his face, his unsheathed sw