“I hope your majesty will allow me to proceed.”

“Speak,” said the king, as he turned his back on the colonel, and appeared to occupy himself with the books on his table.

“Lieutenant von Trenck received a letter by the post to-day which points, in my opinion, to an utterly unlawful proceeding.”

The king turned hastily, and looked so angrily at the colonel that he involuntarily withdrew a step.  “It is fortunate that I did not hand him that letter,” thought Jaschinsky; “in his anger the king would have destroyed me.”

“From whom is this letter?” demanded the king.

“Sire, it is from Baron von Trenck, the colonel of the pandours.”

The king appeared relieved, as he replied, with a smile:  “This pandour is a cousin of our lieutenant.”

“But he is in the enemy’s camp; and I do not think it proper for a Prussian officer to request one in the Austrian service to send him a present of horses, or for the Austrian to invite the Prussian to join him.”

“Is this in the letter?” asked the king in a threatening tone; and when Jaschinsky answered in the affirmative, he said:  “Give me the letter; I must convince myself with my own eyes that this is so.”

“I have not the letter, but if your majesty desire, I will demand it from Lieutenant von Trenck.”

“And if he has burnt the letter?”

“Then I am willing to take an oath that what I have related was in the letter.  I read it myself, for the lieutenant showed it to me.”

“Bring me the letter.”

Jaschinsky went, and the king remained alone and thoughtful in his tent.  “If he were a traitor, he would surely not have shown the letter to Jaschinsky,” said the king, softly; “no, his brow is as clear, his glance as open as formerly.  Trenck is no traitor—­no traitor to his country—­I fear only a traitor to his own happiness.  Well, perhaps he has come to his reason, I have warned him repeatedly, and perhaps he has at length understood me.—­Where is the letter?” he asked, as Colonel Jaschinsky reentered.

“Sire, here it is.  At least I think that is it.  I did not take time to glance at the paper, in my haste to return to your majesty.”

“Was he willing to give the letter?”

“He said nothing, but drew it instantly from his bosom, and I brought it to your majesty without glancing at it.”

The king looked searchingly into the countenance of the colonel.  Jaschinsky’s repeated assurances that he had not looked at the letter surprised the king, and led him to suspect some hidden motive.  He received the letter, and opened it slowly and carefully.  He again turned his piercing glance upon the countenance of Jaschinsky; he now perceived the rose-colored letter, which lay in the folds of that one from Colonel Trenck, and he immediately understood the words of the count.  This little letter was really the kernel of the whole matter, and Jaschinsky preferred to know nothing of it.