“Wait outside until I call you.  I wish to read this letter carefully,” said the king, with perfect composure; but when Jaschinsky had disappeared, he hastily unfolded the paper, and, throwing Trenck’s letter on the table, he took the other, and looking carefully at it, he said softly, “It is her writing—­yes, it is her writing, and all my trouble has been in vain.  They would not understand me.  They are lost.”

And sighing deeply, the king turned again to the letter.  “Poor, miserable children, why should I not make them happy? is it impossible to forget prejudice for once, and to allow these two beings to be happy in their own way?  So strange a thing is the heart of a woman, that she prefers an orange-wreath to a crown!  Why should I force this young girl to be a princess, when she only desires to be a woman?  Shall I allow them to fly away into some wilderness, and there create a paradise?  But how soon would the serpent creep into this paradise! how soon would satiety, and ennui, and repentance destroy their elysium!  No, the daughters of the Hohenzollerns must not stoop for happiness; I cannot change it.  Fate condemns them, not I. They are condemned, but the sword which is suspended above them must fall only upon his head.  His is the guilt, for he is the man.  His stake was immense, and he has lost all.”

The king then took the letter of Colonel Trenck, and read it attentively.  “This letter bears all-sufficient testimony against him; it is the iron mask which I will raise before his crime, that the world may not discover it.  I would laugh at this letter were it not for the other, which condemns him.  This will answer as an excuse for his punishment.”

The king arose from his seat, and placing the letter of the princess in his bosom, and folding the other, he walked hastily to the opening of the tent and called Jaschinsky.

“Colonel,” he said, and his countenance was troubled but determined, “you are right.  Lieutenant von Trenck is a great criminal, for this letter contains undeniable proof of his traitorous connection with the enemy.  If I ordered him before a court-martial, he would be condemned to death.  As his crime may have grown out of carelessness and thoughtlessness, I will be merciful, and try if a few years’ imprisonment will not work a cure.  You can inform him of his punishment, when you return his cousin’s letter to him.  You did not open this letter when you brought it to me?”

The eye of the king rested with a threatening expression upon the colonel as he asked this question.

“No, your majesty,—­I did not open it,” replied the colonel.

“You did well,” said the king, “for a wasp had crept within it, which might have given you a deadly wound.  Go now, and take this letter to Trenck, and take his sword from him.  He is under arrest, and must be sent at once to the fortress at Glatz.”

“Must it be quietly done?” asked Jaschinsky, scarcely able to conceal his delight.