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TWO:��Waters all out, bridges down,�� writes Carlyle; ��the country one wide lake of eddying mud; up to the knee for many miles together; up to the middle for long spaces; sometimes even to the chin or deeper, where your bridge was washed away. The Prussians marched through it as if they had been slate or iron. Rank and file��nobody quitted his rank, nobody looked sour in the face��they took the pouring of the skies and the red seas of terrestrial liquid as matters that must be; cheered one another with jocosities, with choral snatches, and swashed unweariedly forward. Ten hours some of them were out, their march being twenty or twenty-five miles.��During this time, in May, the king wrote a very bitter and satirical ode against Louis XV.����the plaything of the Pompadour,�� ��polluted with his amours,�� ��and disgracefully surrendering the government of his realms to chance.�� The ode he sent to Voltaire. The unprincipled poet, apprehending that the ode might come to light, and that he might be implicated, treacherously sent it to the prime minister, the Duke De Choiseul, to be shown to the king. At the same time, he wrote to Frederick that he had burned the ode. In the account which Voltaire himself gives of this disgraceful transaction, he writes: