Life was the friend that appeared to Frederick, and he now felt his great love for it. Raising his eyes in a sort of ecstasy to the sky, he murmured, "I swear not to seek death unless at the last extremity, if, when made a prisoner, I cannot escape. I swear to live, to suffer, so long as I am free."

He had assumed the harness of life, and was determined to battle bravely with it.

Smiling, and with elastic step, the king advanced to meet the two grenadiers, who stood rooted to the spot as he approached them. "Grenadiers," said he, "why are you not with your comrades?"

"It is dishonorable to fly," said the other.

The king was startled. These voices were familiar, he had surely heard them before.

"I ought to know you," said he, "this is not the first time we have spoken together. What is your name, my son?"

"Fritz Kober is my name," said the grenadier.

"Charles Henry Buschman," said the other.