Loudon gone, the miracle of Battle done, and this miraculous packing going on,--Friedrich riding about among his people, passed along the front of Bernburg, the eye of him perhaps intimating, "I saw you, BURSCHE;" but no word coming from him.

The Bernburg Officers, tragically tressless in their hats, stand also silent, grim as blackened stones (all Bernburg black with gunpowder): "In us also is no word; unless our actions perhaps speak ?" But a certain Sergeant, Fugleman, or chief Corporal, stept out, saluting reverentially: "Regiment Bernburg, IHRO MAJESTAT-- ?" "Hm; well, you did handsomely.
Yes, you shall have your side-arms back; all shall be forgotten and washed out!" "And you are again our Gracious King, then ?" says the Sergeant, with tears in his eyes.--"GEWISS, Yea, surely!" [Tempelhof, iv.

162-164.] Upon which, fancy what a peal of sound from the ecstatic throat and heart of this poor Regiment.

Which I have often thought of; hearing mutinous blockheads, "glorious Sons of Freedom" to their own thinking, ask their natural commanding Officer, "Are not we as good as thou?
Are not all men equal ?" Not a whit of it, you mutinous blockheads; very far from it indeed! This was the breaking of Friedrich's imprisonment in the deadly rock-labyrinths; this success at Liegnitz delivered him into free field once more.

For twenty-four hours more, indeed, the chance was still full of anxiety to him; for twenty-four hours Daun, could he have been rapid, still had the possibilities in hand;--but only Daun's Antagonist was usually rapid.