The Archduke Charles turned still paler than before; a strange
tremor passed through his frame, his head dropped on his bosom, and
a deep groan issued from his breast.

The Archduke John, forgetful of his quarrel with his brother
Charles, at the sight of the latter's profound grief, hastened to
him, and tenderly grasped both his hands.

"Brother," he asked, anxiously, "what is the matter? Are you
unwell?"

"I am," said Charles, wiping from his forehead the large drops of
sweat standing on it. "I am unwell, but I must say a few additional
words to the emperor. I must disclose to him a melancholy secret of
which I heard only an hour ago.--Your majesty, I implore you once
more, postpone the war as long as possible; for--hear my terrible
secret--we have been infamously defrauded by Commissary-General von
Fassbender."

"Your intimate friend?" interposed the emperor, with a scornful
laugh.

"Yes, my intimate friend," exclaimed the archduke, in a loud, shrill
voice; "he deceived me most shamefully. All the army contracts had
been intrusted to him, and he assured me he had filled them in the
most conscientious manner. I believed him, and it is only now that I
find out that he has shamefully deceived me and his emperor. All his
bills for the supplies which he pretended to have furnished are in
my hands, but the troops did not get the supplies. The scoundrel
sent only sour flour, bad linen, and moth-eaten uniform cloth to the