The king recoiled a step, and his eye grew darker. "Really, you obtain your audiences in a daring manner--you conquer them, and make the princess your herald." "Sire, I was refused admission. In the anguish of my heart, I turned to the princess, who was generous enough to incur the displeasure of her royal brother for my sake." "And was that which you had to say really so urgent?" "Sire, for five months has my son been languishing in prison, and you ask if there is an urgent necessity for his mother's appeal. My son has incurred your majesty's displeasure; why, I know not. He is a prisoner, and stands accused of I know not what. Be merciful--let me know his crime, that I may endeavor to atone for it." "Madame, a mother is not responsible for her son; a woman cannot atone for a man's crimes. Leave your son to his destiny; it may be a brighter one at some future day, if he is wise and prudent, and heeds the warning which is now knocking at his benighted heart." At these words, the king's glance rested for a moment on the countenance of the princess, as if this warning had also been intended for her. "It is, then, your majesty's intention to cheer a mother's heart with hope? My son will not be long a captive. You will pardon him for this crime of which I have no knowledge, and which you do not feel inclined to mention." "Shall I make it known to you, madame?" said the king, with severity. "He carried on an imprudent and treasonable correspondence, and if tried by court-martial, would be found guilty of high treason. But, in consideration of his youth, and several extenuating circumstances with which I alone am acquainted, I will be lenient with him. Be satisfied with this assurance: in a year your son will be free; and when solitude has brought him to reflection, and the consciousness of his crime, when he is more humble and wiser, I will again be a gracious king to him. [Footnote: Trenck's Memoirs, i., 82.] Write this to your son, madame, and receive my best wishes for yourself." "Oh, sire, you do not yet know all. I have another confession to make, and--" A light knock at the door communicating with the antechamber interrupted her, and a voice from the outside exclaimed: "Sire, a courier with important dispatches from Silesia." "Retire to the adjoining apartment, and wait there," said the king, turning to his sister. Both ladies left the room. "Dispatches from Silesia," whispered the countess. "The king will now learn all, I fear." "Well, if he does," said the princess, almost defiantly, "we are here to save him, and we will save him." A short time elapsed; then the door was violently thrown open, and the king appeared on the threshold, his eyes flashing with anger.