Many of his generals fell from him at once. A few
regiments only remained faithful, and even in their ranks traitors
lurked. With but a thousand men to follow him he proceeded to Eger, and
from there asked aid of Bernhard of Weimar, as if he purposed to join
with those against whom he had so long fought. Bernhard received the
message with deep astonishment, and exclaimed, moved by his belief that
Wallenstein was in league with the devil,--
"He who does not trust in God can never be trusted by man!"
The great soldier of fortune was near his end. The stars were powerless
to save him. It was not enough to deprive him of his command, his
enemies did not deem it safe to let him live. One army gone, his wealth
and his fame might soon bring him another, made up of those mercenary
soldiers of all nations, and of all or no creeds, who would follow Satan
if he promised them plunder. His death had been resolved upon, and the
agent chosen for its execution was Colonel Butler, one of the officers
who had accompanied him to Eger.
It was late in February, 1634.
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