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      For several weeks the Austrians slowly and sullenly retired. Their retreat was conducted in two immense columns, by parallel roads at some distance from each other. Their wings of foragers and skirmishers were widely extended, so that the hungry army swept with desolation a breadth of country reaching out many leagues. Though the Austrian army was traversing the friendly territory of Bohemia, still Prince Charles was anxious to leave behind him no resources for Frederick to glean. Frederick, with his army, pressed along, following the wide-spread trail of his foes. The Austrians, with great skill, selected every commanding position on which to erect their batteries, and hurl back a storm of shot and shell into the bosoms of their pursuers. But Frederick allowed them no rest by day or by night. His solid columns so unremittingly and so impetuously pressed with shot, bullets, bayonet, and sabre-blows upon the rear ranks of the foe that there was almost an incessant battle, continuing for several weeks, crimsoning a path thirty miles wide and more than a hundred miles in length with the blood of the wounded and the slain.


      On the 14th of August Frederick had reached Liegnitz. His foes surrounded him in such numbers that escape seemed impossible, and destruction sure. General Loudon, with thirty-five thousand allies, was scarcely a mile east of him. General Lacy, with an immense swarm of cavalry, was at the distance of but a few thousand yards on the west. General Daun, with his immense army, approaching from the southwest, had taken possession of Liegnitz. Frederick was encamped upon some heights a few miles east of the city. To human view, the position of his Prussian majesty was desperate.


      The first letter from Frederick to Voltaire was dated August 8th, 1736. The following extracts will show the spirit of this flattering epistle:

      Lord God, blessed Father, I thank thee from my heart that thou hast so graciously preserved me through this night. Fit me for what thy holy will is, and grant that I do nothing this day, nor all the days of my life, which can divide me from thee; for the Lord Jesus my Redeemers sake. Amen.


      But so consummate a social strategist as Doctor Remy was not thus to be baffled. One day, he took fitting occasion to bring Bergan's name into his talk,speaking of him quietly and unconcernedly, as it was natural to speak of a man with whom he had been intimately associated for some months,and speaking of him kindly, too, as of one for whom he entertained a real regard. Carice turned away her head, and tears sprang to her eyes. It was so long since she had heard Bergan's name spoken in a friendly tone, and unaccompanied by a disparaging commentary! When she ventured to look at Doctor Remy, it was with a soft, grateful expression, which he did not fail to detect and understand. There was a certain wistfulness, also, as of a flower which, having been refreshed by one little drop of unexpected dew, opens its petals for more. This, too, the doctor understood, and was too wise to disappoint.

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      It was on the 9th of December that the king, after incredible exposure to hunger, and cold, and night-marchings, established himself for the winter in the shattered apartments of his ruined palace at Breslau. He tried to assume a cheerful aspect in public, but spent most of his hours alone, brooding over the ruin which now seemed inevitable. He withdrew from all society, scarcely spoke to any body except upon business. One day General Lentulus dined with him, and not one word was spoken at the table. On the 18th of January, 1762, the king wrote in the following desponding tones to DArgens:

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      Then followed a long consultation.

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      Rue was lying on her bed, propped up by pillows into a half-sitting posture. Her breath came raspingly and painfully, and she had the dingy pallor wherewith disease is wont to write itself on the African face.


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