It was a lovely morning; bright and fresh, and sunshiny after the night's
storm. My first thought was of Monsieur Maurice, and the card he had
entrusted to my keeping. I had it still. My father was not at home when I
came back last night. He was in attendance on the King, and did not return
till long after I was asleep in my own little bed. This morning, early as I
awoke, he was gone again, on the same duty.
I jumped up. I bade Bertha dress me quickly. "I must go to papa," I said.
"I have a card for him from Monsieur Maurice."
"Nay, liebe Gretchen," said Bertha, "he is with the King."
But I told myself that I would find him, and see him, and give the card
into his own hands, though a dozen kings were in the way. I could not read
what was written on the card. I could read print easily and rapidly, but
handwriting not at all. I knew, however, that it was urgent. Had he not
said that it was matter of life or death?
I hurried to dress; I hurried to get out. I could not rest, I could not eat
till I had given up the card. As good fortune would have it, the first
person I met was Corporal Fritz. I asked him where I could find my father.
"Dear little Fraeulein," said Corporal Fritz, "you cannot see him just yet.
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