[热话]解决了吗:第十个冬天

516 This is, I swear to you, such a dogs life [chienne de vie] as no one but Don Quixote ever led before me. All this tumbling, toiling, bother, and confusion have made me such an old fellow that you would scarcely know me again. The hair on the right side of my head has grown quite gray. My teeth break and fall out. My face is as full of wrinkles as the furbelow of a petticoat. My back is bent like a fiddle-bow, and my spirit is sad and downcast, like a monk of La Trappe. During the first part of his journey the king had been remarkably cheerful and genial, but toward its close he was attacked by a new fit of very serious illness. To the discomfort of all, his chronic moodiness returned. A few extracts from P?llnitzs account of this journey throws interesting light upon those scenes:

What do you mean by that? replied the king; what is there wanting at my table?

CHAPTER XVI. THE CONQUEST OF SILESIA.

Well, my children, said Frederick, how do you think that it will be with us now? The Austrians are twice as strong as we.

Voltaire. The next day, the 11th, Frederick wrote from Neustadt to the Countess of Camas, who at Berlin was the grand mistress of the queens household. The trifling tone of this letter, which was penned in the midst of a struggle so awful, is quite characteristic of the writer: