A tall haggard man, with a dreadful sternness in his yellow face and small twinkling eyes, frightfully expressive of anxiety, a magnificent plumed hat upon his short red head, a black velvet Spanish jacket decked with the stars and chains of various orders, an ermine-trimmed, dark violet-colored velvet mantle upon his shoulders, was standing by his gilded armchair before a table, at which three counsellors and a Jesuit were seated. Six barons and the same number of knights, stood in files by the wall in respectful silence, that the behests of the all-powerful noble might be followed by instant execution, as the deed follows the will, or thunder the lightning. Behind the arm-chair stood the well known captain of the life guards, who met the entering group with a smile of Satanic triumph. With the majesty of a prince of the lower world, the duke advanced to Dorn, looked at him with his little piercing eyes as though he would interrogate his soul, and in a gruff repulsive tone asked him, 'Danish captain?' 'By virtue of this commission,' quietly answered Dorn, handing the document to him. The duke glanced through it, gave it back to him, and said, 'a prisoner of war, then!' 'When count Mannsfeld was driven through Silesia by you,' answered Dorn, 'I was left in Oels severely wounded. I there found a charitable merchant who had my wounds healed and afterwards took me with him to Schweidnitz. Tired of the trade of war, I have remained there for the last two years, and served my benefactor in the capacity of book-keeper. Under these circumstances, I leave it for your sense of justice to decide whether I can be considered a prisoner of war.' 'Or spy?' asked the duke. 'My free passport remains with the commandant of the city,' answered Dorn. 'What was your object in coming to head quarters?' asked the duke. 'To bring a scholar from Schweidnitz,' answered Dorn, for your school at Gitschin, and to take back to Schweidnitz my employer's mother-in-law and her daughter.' 'Prove it!' cried the examiner. 'Send to the merchant Engelmann,' said Dorn; 'who must have left his prison last evening; and Madam Rosen must yet have the letter which she wrote to Schweidnitz and which I brought back to her as my credential.' 'Here is the unlucky letter,' sobbed the trembling widow, handing it to the duke on bended knee. He took it, read, and turned towards the captain. 'We have your portrait here,' said he; 'not flattered, but well drawn. Did you know the object of his coming here?' The captain replied only by stammering some unintelligible words. 'He wished to prevent their departure,' said Dorn. 'To know and keep silence, is called lying!' observed the duke, with anger. Then to Dorn, 'you have, however, abused the emperor!'