to be
answered?"

Before the count was able to answer, the queen said, in a loud voice:

"By a declaration of war, my husband! This is due to your honor. We have
been insulted; it therefore becomes you to throw down the gauntlet to
your presumptuous adversary."

"We will continue this conversation in my apartments," said the king,
rising; "this is no place for it. Our beautiful feast has been disturbed
in a most brutal manner. Count Bruhl, notify the different ambassadors
that, in an hour, I will receive them at my palace."

"This hour is mine!" thought the queen, as she arose; "in it I will
stimulate my husband's soft and gentle heart to a brave, warlike
decision; he will yield to my prayers and tears." She took the king's
arm with a gay smile, and left the tent, followed by the princes, and
the host and hostess.

Silently they passed the festive tables, from which the guests had risen
to greet them. The courtiers sought to read in their countenances the
solution of that riddle which had occupied them since the arrival of the
Prussian ambassador, and about which they had been anxiously debating.

But, upon the queen's countenance there was now her general look of
indifference. It is true, the king was not smiling as was his wont when
amongst his subjects, but his pleasant countenance betrayed no fear or
sorrow. The queen maintained her exalted bearing; nothing had passed
to bow her proud head. After the royal guests had left, Count Bruhl
returned. He also had regained his usual serenity. With ingenious
friendliness he turned to his guests, and while requesting them, in
a flattering manner, to continue to grace his wife's fete by their
presence, demanded for himself leave of absence. Then passing on, he
whispered here and there a few words to the different ambassadors. They
and the count then disappeared.

The fete continued quietly; the music recommenced its gay, melodious
sounds, the birds carolled their songs, and the flowers were as
beautiful and as sweet as before. The jewels of the courtiers sparkled
as brilliantly. Their eyes alone were not so bright, and the happy smile
had left their lips. They were all weighed down by a presentiment that
danger was hovering around them.

CHAPTER XIII. THE ARCHIVES AT DRESDEN.

Count Mattzahn's prophecy came true. The King of Prussia came to
Dresden, and there, as in every other part of Saxony, found no
resistance. Fear and terror had gone before him, disarmi