"They will discover this mystery; they will learn how to make gold, and I shall not be there," murmured Fredersdorf, gnashing his teeth; "who knows? perhaps they will not divulge to me this costly receipt! They will lie to me and deceive me. Ah! the moon is rising; she casts her pure, silver rays into this hated room, now become my prison. Now, even now, they are assembling; now the holy incantation begins, and I--I am not there! "He tore his hair, and beat his breast, and cried aloud. Fredersdorf was right. As the moon rose, the conspirators, who had been notified by Von Kleist, the husband of the beautiful Louise von Schwerin, began to assemble. The great saloon in which the gay and laughter-loving Louise had given her superb balls and soirees--in which her dancing feet had trampled upon her fortune and her happiness--was now changed into a solemn temple of worship, where the pious believers assembled to pray to God and to adjure the devil. The king had forbidden that the churches should be opened except on Sunday and the regular fete days. Some over-pious and fanatical preachers had dared to disobey this order. The assemblies had been broken up by force of arms, the people driven to their homes, and the churches closed. Both priests and people were threatened with severe punishment if they should dare to open the churches again during the week. [Footnote: Preuss's "Geschichte Friedriotia des Grossen."] The pietists, forgetting the Bible rule, to "give unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," refused obedience to the spirit of the command, and assembled together in the different houses of the faithful. Their worship consisted principally in stern resolves to remain obedient to the only true doctrine. To the proud fanatic this is, of course, the faith which he professes, and there is salvation in no other. With zealous speech they railed at the king as a heretic or unbeliever, and strengthened themselves in their disobedience to his commands by declaring it was well-pleasing in the sight of God. The pietists, who had in vain endeavored to retain the power and influence which they had enjoyed under Frederick William, whom they now declared to have been the holiest and wisest of kings, had become the bitterest enemies of Frederick the Great. The king called their piety hypocrisy, laughed at their rage, replied to their curses by witty words and biting sarcasm; and on one occasion, after listening to an impertinent request, he replied laconically: "The cursed priest don't know himself what he wants. Let him go to the devil!" [Footnote: Busching's "Character of Frederick the Great."]