His secretary, Willmar, approached the royal table, and without a
word of excuse, without greeting the king, handed the count a sealed
package!

This was such a crime against courtly etiquette that the count, from
sheer amazement, made no excuses to the king; he only cast a
threatening look at the secretary. But as he encountered Willmar's
pale, terrified countenance, a tremor seized him, and he cast an
eager glance upon the papers in his hand, which, no doubt, contained
the key to all this mystery. "They are from the commandant at
Leipsic," whispered the secretary; "I entreat your excellency to
read them."

Before the count had time, however, to open the dispatch, a still
stranger event took place.

The Prussian ambassador, who, upon the plea of illness, had declined
Count Bruhl's invitation, suddenly appeared in the garden,
accompanied by the four secretaries of his legation, and approached
the royal table. Upon his countenance there was no sign of sickness,
but rather an expression of great joy.

As he neared the tent, the gay song and merry jest ceased. Every eye
was fixed inquiringly upon the individual who had dared to disturb
this fete by his presence. The music, which had before filled the
air with joyous sounds, was now playing a heart-breaking air.

Count Bruhl now arose and advanced. He greeted the Prussian
ambassador in a few cold, ceremonious words.