“They are all yet in the refectory, and the windows open upon the gardens.  But no—­there is Brother Anastasius.”

It was truly Brother Anastasius, who stood at the window, and regarded them with astonished and sympathetic glances.  The abbot nodded to him and laid his forefinger lightly upon his lips; he then hastily crossed the threshold of the little door.

The stranger laid his hand upon the shoulder of the abbot, and said sternly, “Did you not give a sign to this monk?”

“Yes, the sign of silence,” answered the abbot; and turning back, he looked calmly upon the strangers.

“Let us go onward.”  And with a firm step they entered the cloister.

CHAPTER XI.

The king and the abbot.

Silently they passed through the lofty halls and corridors, which resounded with the steps of the strangers, and reached the rooms appropriated to the abbot.  As they entered and the door closed behind them, shutting them off from the seeing and listening world, the face of the abbot assumed an expression of the most profound reverence and emotion.  He crossed his hands over his breast, and bowing profoundly, he said:  “Will your majesty allow me from the depths of my soul to welcome you?  In the rooms of the Abbot Tobias Stusche, King Frederick need not preserve his incognito.  Blessed be your entrance into my house, and may your departure also be blessed!”

The king smiled.  “This blessed conclusion, I suppose, depends entirely upon your excellency.  I really cannot say what danger threatens us.  It certainly was not my intention to wander here; to stretch out my reconnoissance to such a distance.  But what would you, sir abbot?  I am not only a king and soldier, but I am a man, with eye and heart open to the beauties of nature, and I worship God in His works of creation.  Your cloister enticed me with its beauty.  In place of mounting my horse and riding back from Frankenstein, I was lured hither to admire your building and enjoy the splendid prospect from your tower.  Allow me to rest awhile; give me a glass of wine, and then we will mount the tower.”

There was so much of calm, bold courage, so much of proud self-consciousness in the bearing of the king, that the poor, anxious abbot could not find courage to express his apprehensions.  He turned and looked imploringly at the companion of the king, who was no other than the young officer of the life-guard, Frederick von Trenck.  The youth seemed to share fully the careless indifference of his royal master; his face was smiling, and he did not seem to understand the meaning looks of the abbot.

“Will your majesty allow me, and me alone, to have the honor of serving you?” said his excellency.  “I am jealous of the great happiness which Providence has accorded me, and I will not divide it with another, not even with my monks.”