in affairs which would carry him on to victory.
Victory is all the sweeter when it seems impossible. Prince Frederick
had disappeared, no one knew where, the peasant girl theory could
no longer be harbored, and the wedding was but three days hence. The
Englishman had not stepped above the horizon, and the telegrams to the
four ends of the world returned unanswered. Thus, the chancellor stood
alone; the two main props were gone from under. As he tossed on his
pillows he pondered over the apparent reticence and indifference of the
archbishop.

All was still in the vicinity of the palaces. Sentinels paced
noiselessly within the enclosures. In the royal bedchamber the king was
resting quietly, and near by, on a lounge, the state physician dozed.
The Captain of the household troop of cuirassiers nodded in the
ante-room.

Only the archbishop remained awake. He sat in his chamber and wrote. Now
and then he would moisten his lips with watered wine. Sometimes he held
the pen in midair, and peered into the shapeless shadows cast by the
tapers, his broad forehead shining and deep furrows between his eyes.
On, on he wrote. Perhaps the archbishop was composing additional
pages to his memoirs, for occasionally his thin lips relaxed into an
impenetrable smile.

There was little quiet in the lower town, especially in the locality of
the university. Old Stuler's was filled with smoke, students and tumult.
Ill feeling ran high. There were many damaged heads, for the cuirassiers
had not been niggard with their sabers.

A student walked backward and forward on the stage, waving wildly with
his hands to command attention. It was some time before he succeeded.

"Fellow-students, brothers of freedom and comrades," he began. "All
this must come to an end, and that at once. Our personal liberty
is endangered. Our rights are being trodden under foot. Our ancient
privileges are being laughed at. It must end." This declaration was
greeted by shouts, sundry clattering of pewter lids and noisy rappings
of earthenware on the tables. "Have we no rights as students? Must we
give way to a handful of beggarly mercenaries? Must we submit to the
outlawing of our customs and observances? What! We must not parade
because the king does not like to be disturbed? And who are the
cuirassiers?" Nobody answered. Nobody was expected to answer. "They are
Frenchmen of hated memory--Swiss, Prussians, with Austrian officers. Are
we or are we not an independent s