CHAPTER VII. The afternoon service of the first Advent Sunday had ended in the camp before Frederickshall. The warriors were dispersing, and, arm in arm with adjutant Kolbert, Arwed sauntered towards the nearest sutler's barrack, to play a game of chess. The place was wholly-unoccupied, and the hostess was standing at the door, waiting for her guests, her parti-colored holiday dress serving as a sign board. The two friends sat themselves down, with a flask of Burgundy, to the bloodless battle. The sleet was lightly drizzling upon the hard frozen ground out of doors. From the walls of the city and from high Fredericksteen the heavy artillery sent a dull sound through the storm, whilst, in the camp, the besieging laborers ceased from work to honor the consecrated day of rest. The Sabbath stillness was only interrupted now and then by a crash in the barracks and a cry from the soldiers, when one of the enemy's balls happened to take effect. But that did not interrupt the players. They had become so deeply interested in their game that they did not once perceive how the room gradually became filled with officers, many of whom placed themselves behind their chairs to overlook the game. Suddenly, with angry impetuosity, Arwed took one of his opponent's knights with his king. 'Stop!' cried Kolbert, holding fast his officer. 'Your bishop will by that movement remain uncovered, and I shall immediately take him.' 'Take him,' said Arwed. 'Your knight is troublesome to me, and must die.' 'A mere exchange, for the sake of exchanging,--that is manifestly contrary to the etiquette of the game!' 'It was not a mere exchange,' protested Arwed. 'You had a mischievous plan. Had you led him out, I were lost. Your knight in the place where he stood was worth more than an ordinary officer, and I could no longer defend myself against him. Wherefore I exchanged to advantage, and I should always do the same under like circumstances. Even if my opponent lose no more than myself by the movement, yet I win temporary relief at least, break up his attack, and compel him to resort to new man[oe]uvres.' 'And to use the king like a subaltern officer is not civil,' grumbled Kolbert. 'My king shall not keep himself behind the cannon, like a Persian shah,' answered Arwed. 'Whenever necessity requires it, he must expose himself as well as one of his soldiers.' 'A regular Charles XIIth,' cried some one behind him, with a scornful laugh. Arwed turned suddenly round and perceived the chief engineer, Megret, a Frenchman by birth, who with a satyr-like face was leaning over the back of his chair. 'I thank you for the comparison, colonel, even though it was ironically intended,' said the youth in a decidedly cutting tone. 'Would to God that we all, not excepting even you, were able to imitate the elevated character of our noble king in good and evil fortune; what accomplished men should we then be!'