Lobkowitz carted off what he could, then burnt "Seventeen Barns yesterday;" and is himself off towards Budweis Head-quarters and the Bohemian bogs again.
This comes of lodging Saxon royal gentlemen too well.
THE SAXONS THINK IGLAU ENOUGH; THE FRENCH GO HOME.
Nay, Iglau taken, the affair grows worse than ever.

Our Saxons now declare that they understand their orders to be completed; that their Court did not mean them to march farther, but only to hold by Iglau, a solid footing in Moravia, which will suffice for the present.

Fancy Friedrich; fancy Valori, and the cracks he will have to fill! Friedrich, in astonishment and indignation, sends a messenger to Dresden: "Would the Polish Majesty BE 'King of Moravia,' then, or not be ?" Remonstrances at Budischau rise higher and higher; Valori, to prevent total explosion, flies over once, in the dead of the night, to deal with Rutowsky and Brothers.

Rutowsky himself seems partly persuadable, though dreadfully ill of rheumatism.

They rouse Comte Maurice; and Valori, by this Comte's caprices, is driven out of patience.