"Scharnhorst," he said,
"every thing turns out wrong, and I wish myself dead rather than see
such a state of affairs."
"What do you mean, general?" inquired Scharnhorst. "What has
happened?"
Blucher cast a piercing glance on him, and seemed to read in the
depths of his soul. "Is the matter settled?" he asked. "Pray, my
friend, tell me the truth without circumlocution. It is better for
me to know it at once than allow this incertitude longer to gnaw at
my heart. Scharnhorst, I implore you, tell me the truth! Has the
commander of the Silesian army been appointed?"
"No, general," said Scharnhorst, gravely.
"And you do not know whom they will appoint? The truth, my friend!"
"Well, then, the truth is, that I do not know it, and that their
majesties themselves do not know it, although every patriot thinks
they ought not to doubt which of the three gentlemen who stand on
the list should be appointed, for every heart echoes, 'General
Blucher is the man whom we need, and who will lead us to victory.'
The emperor and the king are still vacillating; precious time is
lost--Napoleon is organizing new armies, and strengthening himself
on all sides, while they are hesitating."
"Three, then, stand on the list," said Blucher. "I have two
competitors. Who are they, general?"
"One is Field-Marshal Kalkreuth."
Blucher started, and his eyes flashed with anger.
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