A round table stood near the divan, covered with a shabby woollen cover, to hide the much-thumbed, dull polish.

A few cane-chairs against the wall, an old black-oak wardrobe near the door, and the sewing-table of Madame von Werrig in the window-niche, completed the furniture of the room.

At the window hung faded woollen curtains, and on the green painted walls some pictures and portraits, conspicuous among them a beautiful portrait of the king, painted on copper, which represented Frederick in his youthful beauty.

It was a morose, sullen-looking room, arranged most certainly by its feminine occupant, and harmonized exactly with her fretful face and angular figure, void of charms.

At last the general broke the silence with submissive voice: "I pray you, Clotilda, tell me what the king wrote." She folded the paper, joy beaming in her eyes.