God himself!  Only think that the gates of Breslau were opened by a box on the ear! that the year before, Prague was taken almost without a blow!  It seemed indeed like child’s play.  Frederick was in possession of almost the whole of Bohemia, but like a besieged and suffering garrison he was obliged to creep away.  God sent an enemy against him who is more powerful than all mortal foes, his army was perishing with hunger.  There is no difference between the bravest soldier and the little maiden when they fall into the hands of this adversary.  Hunger drove the victorious King of Prussia out of Bohemia; hunger made him abandon Silesia and seek refuge in Berlin. [Footnote:  Preuss’s “History of Frederick the Great.”] Oh, I assure you, we will soon cease to be Prussians.  While King Frederick is refreshing and amusing himself in Berlin, the Austrians have entered Glatz, and bring us greetings from our gracious queen, Maria Theresa.”

“If the King of Prussia hears of these greetings, he will answer them by cannon-balls.”

“Did I not tell you that Frederick of Prussia was idling away in Berlin, and recovering from his disastrous campaign in Bohemia?  The Austrians will have taken possession of all Upper Silesia before the king and his soldiers have satisfied their hunger, I tell you, in a few days they will be with us.”

“God forbid!” said Brother Anastasius; “then will the torch of war burn anew, and misfortune and misery will reign again throughout Silesia.”

“Yes, that is true.  I will tell you another piece of news, which I heard yesterday in Frankenstein; it is said that the King of Prussia has quietly left Berlin and gone himself into Silesia to look after the Austrians.  Would it not be charming if Frederick should make our cloister a visit, just as General Count Wallis and his troops entered Camens?”

“And you would call that charming?” said Brother Anastasius, with a reproachful look.

“Yes, most assuredly; the king would be taken prisoner, and the war would be at an end.  You may rest assured the Austrians would not give the king his liberty till he had yielded up Silesia for ransom.”

“May God be gracious, and guard us from war and pestilence!” murmured Brother Anastasius, folding his hands piously in prayer.

The thrice-repeated stroke of the bell in the cloister interrupted his devotions, and the full, round face of Brother Tobias glowed with pleasing anticipations.

“They ring for breakfast, Brother Anastasius,” said he; “let us hasten before Brother Baptist, who is ever the first at the table, appropriates the best morsels and lays them on his plate.  Come, come, brother; after breakfast we will go into the garden and water our flowers.  We have a lovely day and ample time—­it will be three hours before mass.”

“Come, then, brother, and may your dangerous prophecies and expectations not be fulfilled!”

The two monks stepped into the cloister, and a deep and unbroken silence reigned around, interrupted only by the sweet songs of the birds and the light movements of their wings.  The building was in the noble style of the middle ages, and stood out in grand and harmonious proportions against the deep blue of the horizon.