"Did you arrive now?" asked the king, eying him closely.
"I did, your majesty, and, agreeably to the orders of General von
York, have had myself driven directly to the royal palace, for the
general deemed it of the highest importance that I should deliver my
dispatches as soon as possible to your majesty. Hence I rode night
and day, and, my horse breaking down today, I was obliged to take a
carriage."
"But the French courier reached Berlin earlier than you did," said
the king, gruffly. "How does that happen? Have the French quicker
horses or more devoted soldiers?"
"No, your majesty, their road to Berlin was shorter than mine, that
is all. As I could not ride across the French camp, I had to take a
roundabout road by way of Gumbinnen. This caused a delay of four
hours."
"Give me your dispatches," said the king.
Major Thile handed him a large sealed paper. The king extended his
hand to take it, but suddenly withdrew it again and started back.
"No," he said, "it does not behoove a king to receive letters from a
traitorous subject--a rebellious soldier. Take this dispatch, M.
Chancellor; open and read it to me. Give it to his excellency."
Major Thile handed Hardenberg the letter, and, while he was doing
so, the eyes of the two men met. The major's eyes expressed an
anxious question, those of Hardenberg made him a sad and painful
reply, and both were unable to restrain a sigh.
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