"I believe it is dangerous to stand before him when his hand
is itching."
"Yes, his hand has been itching from the days of Jena," exclaimed
the king, smiling. "He has been anxious to fight ever since. For
this reason I gave him the estate of Kunzendorf, and sent him
thither. I thought he would there quietly cure himself; but it seems
it was in vain; my expectations have been disappointed. I believe
his hand is incurable."
"Your majesty, therefore, had better yield to him, and allow him to
fight," said Alexander, almost entreatingly. "The opportunity is
excellent at the present time. If you place him at the head of the
Silesian army, he will no longer slap the faces of his friends and
neighbors on the right and left, but will rush forward and stretch
out his itching hand to deal the French terrible blows."
"I am only afraid he would be too rash in his wild hussar spirit,"
said the king, "and spoil every thing by trying to tear down all
barriers."
"A man should be placed by his side who knows how to check his
boldness," exclaimed Alexander--"a man who does not stifle Blucher's
ardor, but gives it the true direction."
"But where shall we find such a one?"
"I believe your majesty may find him close by," said Alexander,
pointing to Scharnhorst, who was leaning against the portiere.
"Ah, sire," cried the king, almost merrily, "I believe yon are a
magician, and understand my most secret thoughts.
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