But I cannot, your majesties; I cannot! I must give vent to my
wrath, my vexation, and grief! I must be allowed to scold, for if I
did not I would be obliged to weep, and it would be a disgrace for
Blucher to act like an old woman! Let me scold, then, your
majesties; it relieves my heart a little, and my auger teaches me to
forget my grief."
"You grieve, then, general?" inquired Frederick William, smiling.
"Yes. my lord and king. I do grieve intensely. I should like to lay
my complaint before your majesty, and I will do so, too. I--"
"Hush!" interposed the king,--"hush, my firebrand of seventy-one
years! First reply to this question: would you like to be appointed
general-in-chief of the Silesian army?"
"Would I like to be appointed general-in-chief?" cried Blucher, his
eyes sparkling with joy. "Your majesty, that is just as though you
ask me whether I like to live any longer. For I tell your majesty I
will die at once rather than let any one else have that position."
"Well, then," said the king, in a grave and dignified tone, "I
appoint you general-in-chief of the Silesian army. Do you accept the
position?"
Blucher uttered a cry, and his face brightened as if lit up by a
sunbeam. "I accept it," he exclaimed, "and here I swear to your
majesty that I shall not lay down my command before Prussia is again
what she was prior to the battle of Jena, and that I shall not
sheathe my sword before we have driven Napoleon beyond the Rhine,
and have made him so humble that he will never again dare to cross
it.
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