"Stay, count!" cried he, "I will burden you with one request. I am
now a king without a crown, without subjects, without a foot of land
in which to bury me when I die. I cannot reward the fidelity of any
one of the few friends of whom my enemies have not deprived me; but
you are young, and Heaven may yet smile upon you in some distant
nation. Will you pay a debt of gratitude for your poor sovereign?
Should you ever again meet with the good old Butzou, who rescued me
when my preservation lay on the fortune of a moment, remember that I
regard him as once the saviour of my life! I was told to-day that on
the destruction of Praga this brave man joined the army of my
brother. It is now disbanded, and he, with the rest of my faithful
soldiers, is cast forth in his old age, a wanderer in a pitiless
world. Should you ever meet him, Sobieski, succor him for my sake."
"As Heaven may succor me!" cried Thaddeus; and putting his majesty's
hand a second time to his lips, he bowed to the chancellor and passed
into the street.
When the count returned to the citadel, he found that all was as the
king had represented. The soldiers in the garrison were reluctantly
preparing to give up their arms; and the nobles, in compassion to the
cries of the people, were trying to humble their necks to the yoke of
the dictator. The magistrates lingered as they went to take the city
keys from the hands of their good king, and with sad whispers
anticipated the moment in which they must surrender them, and their
laws and national existence, to the jealous dominion of three
despotic foreign powers.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171