"Oh!" groaned Lombard; "then they want me to die with my sick, bruised body on the hard boards here!"
"No!" exclaimed the major, "I will obtain another couch for you. I will immediately go to the governor and procure an order from him that will compel the hotel-keepers to furnish you with the necessary articles."
Half an hour afterward he returned to Lombard, who had meanwhile vainly tried to sleep.
"Now, sir," said the major, "your wishes will soon be fulfilled. The governor has ordered the proprietor of the hotel Zum Kronprinzen, under pain of severe punishment, to furnish you with all necessaries, and I have sent some of my men to him with this written order. They will doubtless speedily return."
A few minutes later, in fact, the door opened, and the soldiers carried a bed into the cell; two others followed with smoking dishes.
"Well," said the major, "then the landlord of the hotel that I sent you to has no longer refused to give you the required articles? The governor's order had a good effect."
"Yes, sir, it had a good effect. But the proprietor of the hotel Zum Kronprinzen sends word to you, that inasmuch as the governor had issued so stringent an order, nothing remained for him but to obey; but as soon as he should be compelled no longer to furnish M. Lombard with any thing, he would smash the dishes and plates from which the cabinet counsellor had eaten, and burn the bedding on which he had slept."
M. Lombard had apparently not heard these mortifying words. Assisted by his footman, who had been sent for, he hastily rose, and sat down at the table to dinner.
In the evening the major repaired with a few officers to the hotel, and inquired for the landord.
He came in, somewhat confused, and convinced that the major would censure him for his conduct. The latter, however, went to meet him, and, with a kindly smile, offered him his hand. "Sir," he said, "these gentlemen and I have taken it upon ourselves to express to you, in the name of all our comrades, our delight at the brave and manly reply you made to-day, when compelled to furnish Lombard, the traitor, with food and bedding. The officers of the garrison have resolved to board with you, for we deem it an honor to be the guests of so patriotic a man."
CHAPTER VII.
THE QUEEN'S FLIGHT.
Louisa waited till Lombard had been carried away amid the jeers of the people; then, accompanied by her friend, she hastened down-stairs in order to continue her journey. Many persons were still assembled in the street, who, instead of following Lombard, had preferred to see the queen once more. They received her with enthusiastic cheers, and heartily wished her a safe journey.
"Give our best wishes to our king, and tell him that we will be faithful to him as long as we live!" exclaimed a voice from the crowd.
"We thank the queen for ordering the traitor to be arrested!" exclaimed another. "Now we need not have any fears for her, and know that she is able to continue her journey without incurring any danger whatever."
Louisa greeted her subjects smilingly, and lowered the windows of the carriage for the purpose of returning their salutations, and of being seen by them.
"Yes," she said, when the carriage rolled through the gate into the high-road, "yes, I hope the prophecy of these good men will be fulfilled, and that I shall safely reach my destination. Now that Lombard has been arrested, I am satisfied of it, for he had followed me in order to inform the enemy of my whereabouts; I feel convinced of it. But the judgment of Heaven has overtaken him, and he has received his punishment. Oh, how dreadful it must be to stand before the people with so bad a conscience, so pale and cowardly a face, and to be accused by them! We are able to bear up under the greatest afflictions when our soul is free from guilt! And therefore I will meet the future courageously and patiently, hoping that God will have mercy on us. Henceforth there will be but one duty for me, and that is, to be a faithful mother, and a comforter to my husband in his misfortunes. Oh, Caroline, my heart, which was lately, as it were, frozen and dead, is reawakening now—it is living and throbbing with joy, for I shall see my husband and my children! If all should forsake us, love will remain with us, and he whose heart is full of love will not be forsaken by the Lord."
She leaned back and closed her eyes. Profound peace was depicted on her handsome face; her brow was calm and cloudless, and a sweet smile played on her lips. Grief had not yet marked this noble and youthful countenance with its mournful yet eloquent traces, and its handwriting was not yet to be read on her expansive forehead.
"Oh," whispered her friend to herself, contemplating the beautiful slumbering queen, "oh, that grief might pass away from her like a dark cloud—that no thunderbolt burst forth from it and strike that beloved head! But I am afraid the lightning will at last blight all the blossoms of her heart. O God, give her strength, nerve her in her sufferings, as Thou hast blessed her in her happiness! She is sleeping; let her slumber be peaceful and refreshing, so that it may invigorate her mind!" Madame von Berg leaned cautiously, in order not to disturb the queen, into the other corner of the carriage, which rapidly drove along the high-road.
The journey was continued uninterruptedly from station to station; in every town and village the people, as soon they had recognized her, hastened to procure fresh horses for her, and crowds gathered everywhere to cheer her on her way. She had already passed through Frankfort, and stopped in the village of Rettwein in front of the superintendent's house. The footman entered and asked in her name for another set of horses. The superintendent looked at him uneasily and gloomily. "I will get them directly," he said; "I will go myself to the stable and harness them, in order not to detain the queen unnecessarily." He left the house hastily, and the footman returned to the carriage.
Louisa had risen and contemplated with a melancholy air the deserted landscape. For the first time since the beginning of her journey she was not welcomed on her arrival. Nobody seemed to know or care that it was the queen who was seated in the carriage. Only a few tow-headed peasants' children, in ragged, dirty dresses, rushed toward the superintendent's house and stared at her, without saluting or thanking her for her kindly nods.
"We shall frequently ride out of the gate, but no drums will be beaten," murmured she, with a faint smile, and sank back on the cushions.
Time passed, and no horses made their appearance. The queen glanced uneasily at her watch. "We have been here nearly an hour," she said; "this long delay renders me uneasy."
She rose once more and looked again out of the coach window. The same silence prevailed. The children were still in front of the house, with their fingers in their mouths staring at the carriage. At a distance the dull lowing of the cows in their stables and the barking of dogs were to be heard. No human being, except the few children, was to be seen; even the superintendent did not make his appearance, although he knew that the queen was waiting at his door. Just then, however, a laborer, in a long blouse, with heavy wooden shoes, came out of the house and remained at the door, staring with his small blue eyes at the royal carriage.
"I do not know why," murmured Louisa, uneasily, "but this silence frightens me; it fills my heart with a feeling of anxiety which I cannot well explain. It seems to me as though every thing around me were breathing treachery and mischief, and some great danger were menacing me. Let us set out—we must leave this place. Why do not the horses come?"
"Will your majesty permit me to call the footman, and ask him to hurry up the postilion?" said Madame von Berg, leaning out of the window.
"Tell