When the Prince of Cleves heard of the return of these deserters he was in a towering passion. “Where were you, fellows,” shouted he, “during the time my castle was at its utmost need?” Otto replied, “We were out on particular business.” “Does a soldier leave his post on the day of battle, sir?” exclaimed the Prince. “You know the reward of such--Death! and death you merit. But you are a soldier only of yesterday, and yesterday's victory has made me merciful. Hanged you shall not be, as you merit--only flogged, both of you. Parade the men, Colonel Tickelstern, after breakfast, and give these scoundrels five hundred apiece.” You should have seen how young Otto bounded, when this information was thus abruptly conveyed to him. “Flog ME!” cried he. “Flog Otto of--” “Not so, my father,” said the Princess Helen, who had been standing by during the conversation, and who had looked at Otto all the while with the most ineffable scorn. “Not so: although these PERSONS have forgotten their duty” (she laid a particularly sarcastic emphasis on the word persons), “we have had no need of their services, and have luckily found OTHERS more faithful. You promised your daughter a boon, papa; it is the pardon of these two PERSONS. Let them go, and quit a service they have disgraced; a mistress--that is, a master--they have deceived.” “Drum 'em out of the castle, Ticklestern; strip their uniforms from their backs, and never let me hear of the scoundrels again.” So saying, the old Prince angrily turned on his heel to breakfast, leaving the two young men to the fun and derision of their surrounding comrades. The noble Count of Hombourg, who was taking his usual airing on the ramparts before breakfast, came up at this juncture, and asked what was the row? Otto blushed when he saw him and turned away rapidly; but the Count, too, catching a glimpse of him, with a hundred exclamations of joyful surprise seized upon the lad, hugged him to his manly breast, kissed him most affectionately, and almost burst into tears as he embraced him. For, in sooth, the good Count had thought his godson long ere this at the bottom of the silver Rhine. The Prince of Cleves, who had come to the breakfast-parlor window, (to invite his guest to enter, as the tea was made,) beheld this strange scene from the window, as did the lovely tea-maker likewise, with breathless and beautiful agitation. The old Count and the archer strolled up and down the battlements in deep conversation. By the gestures of surprise and delight exhibited by the former, 'twas easy to see the young archer was conveying some very strange and pleasing news to him; though the nature of the conversation was not allowed to transpire.