w!" What can this be? thinks
Kappel. Some secret, doubtless; perhaps some intrigue, which Madam must
not know of,--"ACH, HERR BARON; and at your age,--fifty, I am sure!"
Kappel, a solid fellow, concerned for groom-business alone, punctually
carries his Letters; takes charge of the Responses too, which never have
any Address; and does not too much trouble himself with curiosities of
an impertinent nature.

To these external phenomena I will at present only add this internal
one: That an old Brother Officer of Warkotsch's, a Colonel Wallis, with
Hussars, is now lying at Heinrichau,--say, 10 miles from Strehlen, and
about 10 from Schonbrunn too, or a mile more if you take the Siebenhuben
way; and that all these missives, through Curatus Schmidt, are for
Wallis the Hussar Colonel, and must be a secret not from Madam alone!
How a Baron, hitherto of honor, could all at once become TURPISSIMUS,
the Superlative of Scoundrels? This is even the reason,--the prize is so
superlative.

"MONDAY NIGHT, NOVEMBER 30th, 1761 [night bitter cold], Kappel finds
himself sitting mounted, and holding Master's horse, in Strehlen,
more exactly in Woiselwitz, a suburb of Strehlen, near the King's
door,--Majesty's travelling-coach drawn out there, symbol that Strehlen
is ending, general departure towards Breslau now nigh. Not to Kappel's
sorrow perhaps, waiting in the cold there. Kappel waits, hour after
hour; Master taking his ease with the King's people, regardless of the
horses and me, in this shivery weather;--and one must not walk about
either, for disturbing the King's sleep! Not till midnight does Master
emerge, and the freezing Kappel and quadrupeds get under way. Under way,
Master breaks out into singular talk about the King's lodging: Was ever
anything so careless; nothing but two sentries in the King's anteroom;
thirteen all the soldiers that are in Woiselwitz; Strehlen not available
in less than twenty minutes: nothing but woods, haggly glens and hills,
all on to Heinrichau: How easy to snatch off his Majesty! "UM GOTTES
WILLEN, my Lord, don't speak so: think if a patrolling Prussian were to
hear it, in the dark!" Pooh, pooh, answers the Herr Baron.

"At Schonbrunn, in the short hours, Kappel finds Frau Kappel in state
of unappeasable curiosity: 'What can it be? Curatus Schmidt was here
all afternoon; much in haste to see Master; had to go at last,--for the
Church-service, this St. Andrew's Eve. And only think, though he sat
with My