“Colonel Jaschinsky,” said the king, on the ninth morning, “go to Trenck and counsel him to ask for my forgiveness; say to him, that you believe I will forgive him, if he asks for pardon.  You shall not say this officially, only as a friend.  Remark well what he shall answer, and report it to me strictly.”

The colonel returned in an hour, with a well-pleased smile.

“Well, will he ask for forgiveness?” said the king.

“No, your majesty; he asserts that for a small fault he has been too harshly punished, and he will not bow so low as to plead against an injustice.”

“Let him remain in arrest,” said Frederick, dismissing Jaschinsky.

The king was alone; he walked up and down with his arms folded, as was his custom, when engaged in deep thought.  “A head of iron, a heart of fire!” murmured he; “both so young, so proud, so fond, and all this I must destroy.  I must pluck every leaf from this fair blossom.  Sad mission!  Why must I cease to be a man, because I am a king?”

Eight days again went by—­eight days of fetes, concerts, balls.  The princess dared not absent herself; she appeared nightly in costly toilet, with glowing cheeks, and her lovely hair adorned with flowers, but her cheeks were rouged, and her sad smile accorded but little with her flowers.

The king had carried on diligently but secretly his preparations for war, under the shadow of these luxurious festivities.  Now all was ready; he could lay aside his mask and his embroidered dress, and assume his uniform.  The ballroom was closed, the music silenced, the silver melted into thalers.  The king left Berlin and joined his generals at Potsdam.  On the day of his arrival he commissioned his adjutant, General von Borck, to release Trenck from arrest, and send him to Berlin with a letter to the queen-mother; he was to have leave of absence till the next day.

“I will see, now, if they understood me,” said Frederick to himself.  “I have given them a hard lesson; if they do not profit by it, they are incurable, and force me to extremity.”

Alas! they had not understood this hard lesson; they were not wise, not prudent; they would not see the sharp sword suspended over their heads:  their arms were madly thrown around each other, and they did not grasp this only anchor of safety which the fond brother, and not the stern king, had extended to them.  They were lost! they must go down to destruction!

The next morning, during the parade, Trenck drew near the king.  He had just returned from Berlin; his cheeks were glowing from his rapid ride, and in his eyes there was still a shimmer of that happiness with which the presence of his beloved had inspired him.

“Your majesty, I announce myself,” said he, in a fresh and gay voice.

The king said nothing.  He looked at the handsome, healthy, and radiant youth with a glance of profound sympathy and regret.

Frederick von Trenck saw nothing of this.  “Does your majesty command me to join my regiment at Berlin?” said he, in the most unembarrassed manner.