"My son," said the queen, in a clear, silvery voice, "I have a request to make of you." The king kissed his mother's hand.

"Madame, you well know you have no need of entreaty; you have only to command." Sophia smiled proudly.

"I thank your majesty for this assurance! Listen, then, my chamberlain, Duke Rhedern, wishes to marry. I have promised him to obtain your consent."

"If my royal mother is pleased with the choice of her chamberlain, I am, of course, also content; always provided that, the chosen bride of the duke belongs to a noble family. What is the rank of this bride?"

The queen looked embarrassed, and smiling, said: "She has no rank, your majesty."

The king's brow darkened, "She was not born, then, to be a duchess. Your chamberlain would do better to be silent over this folly than to force a refusal from me. I hate misalliances, and will not suffer them at my court."

These loudly spoken and harsh words produced different impressions upon the family circle of the king; some were cast down, others joyful; some cheeks grew pale, and others red. Sophia blushed from pleasure; she was now convinced that the king would not seek a divorce from his wife, in order to form a morganatic marriage with Laura von Pannewitz; and the queen-mother was of too noble and virtuous a nature herself to believe in the possibility of a mistress at the court of Prussia. The love of the king for the lovely Laura appeared now nothing more than a poetical idyl, which would soon pass away—nothing more! The words of the king made a painful impression upon Augustus William; his brow clouded, his features assumed a painful but threatening expression; he was in the act of speaking, and opposing in the name of humanity and love those cruel words of the king, as Elizabeth Christine, who stood near him and observed him with tender sympathy, whispered lightly:

"Be silent, my brother; be considerate."

The prince breathed heavily, and his glance turned for comfort toward the maids of honor. Laura greeted him with her eyes, and then blushed deeply over her own presumption. Strengthened by this tender glance from his beautiful bride, Augustus was able to assume a calm and indifferent mien.

In the meantime the queen-mother was not silenced by the words of the king. Her pride rebelled against this prompt denial in the face of her family and the court. Besides, she had given her royal word to the count, and it must be redeemed. She urged, therefore, her request with friendly earnestness, but the king was immovable. Sophia, angry at the opposition to her will, was even the more resolved to carry out her purpose. She had a few reserved troops, and she decided to bring them now into the field.

"Your majesty should, without doubt, protect your nobles from unworthy alliances; but there are exceptional cases, where the interest of the nobility would be promoted by allowing such a union." Sophia Dorothea drew nearer to her son, and whispered lightly: "Count Rhedern is ruined, and must go to the ground if you forbid this marriage."

The king was now attentive and sympathetic. "Is the lady very rich?"

"Immensely rich, sire. She will bring the duke a million dollars; she is the daughter of the rich silk merchant Orguelin."

"Ah, Orguelin is a brave man, and has brought much gold into Prussia by his fabrics," said the king, who was evidently becoming more yielding.

"It would be a great pity if this gold should be lost to Prussia," said the queen.

"What do you mean, madame?"

"This Mademoiselle Orguelin, thanks to her riches, has many lovers, and at this time a young merchant from Holland seeks her hand; he has the consent of her father, and will also obtain hers, unless the count knows how to undermine him," said the queen, thus springing her last mine.

"This must not be," said the king; "this Orguelin shall not marry the rich Hollander! Those millions of crowns shall not leave Prussia!"

"But your majesty cannot prevent this girl from marrying the man of her choice, and you cannot forbid her father to give her a portion of his fortune."

The king was silent a moment, and appeared to consider. He then said to his mother: "Madame, you are an eloquent advocate for your client, and no man can withstand you. I give way, therefore; Count Rhedern has my consent to marry the Orguelin."

"But even THAT is not sufficient," said the queen; "there is yet another condition, without the filling of which this proud millionnaire refuses to give her hand to the duke."

"Ah, look you, the little bourgeoise makes conditions before she will wed a count."

"Yes, sire, she will become the wife of the count only with the count's assurance that she will be presented at court, and be received according to her new rank."

"Truly," said the king, with ironical laughter, "this little millionnaire thinks it an important point to appear at my court."

"It appears so, sire; it seems that this is a greater glory than to possess a count for a husband."

The king looked thoughtfully before him, then raised his eyes to his mother with a mocking smile. "Mother, you know I can refuse you nothing; and as you wish it, Mademoiselle Orguelin, when she is married, shall be received at my court as a newly baked countess. But petition for petition, favor for favor. I promise you to receive this new baked countess if you will promise me to receive the Count Neal at your court?"

"Count Neal," said the queen, "your majesty knows—"

"I know," said the king, bowing, "I know that Count Neal is of as good family as the new Countess of Rhedern; that he possesses many millions which I have secured to Prussia by granting him his title. So we understand each other. The new baked countess will be as well received at my court as Count Neal will at yours."

He gave the queen his hand, she laid hers unwillingly within it, and whispered: "Ah, my son, you have cruelly overreached me."

"Madame, we secure in this way three millions for Prussia, and they weigh more than a few countly ancestors. The Prussia of the future will triumph in battle through her nobles; but she will become greater, more powerful, through the industry of her people than by victory on the battle-field."



CHAPTER XVI.

UNDER THE LINDENS.

Linden Street, of Berlin, which is now the most brilliant and most beautiful thoroughfare of that great city, was, in the year 1740, a wild and desolate region.

Frederick the First loved pomp and splendor. His wife, when told upon her death-bed how much the king would mourn for her, said, smiling: "He will occupy himself in arranging a superb funeral procession; and if this ceremony is very brilliant, he will be comforted."

Frederick the First planted the trees from which this street takes its name, to render the drive to the palace of Charlottenburg more agreeable to the queen, and to conceal as much as possible the desolate appearance of the surroundings; for all this suburb lying between the arsenal and the zoological garden was at that time a desolate and barren waste. The entire region, extending from the new gate to the far-distant Behren Street, was an immense mass of sand, whose drear appearance had often offended Frederick while he was still the prince royal. Nothing was to be seen, where now appear majestic palaces and monuments, the opera house and the catholic church, but sand and heaps of rubbish. Frederick William the First had done much to beautify this poor deserted quarter, and to render it more fitting its near neighborhood to the palaces, which were on the other side of the fortifications; but the people of Berlin had aided the king very little in this effort. None were willing to banish themselves to this desolate and remote portion of the city, and the few stately and palatial buildings which were erected there were built by the special order of the king, and at his expense. Some wealthy men of rank had also put up a few large buildings, to please the king, but they did not reside in them, and the houses themselves seemed almost out of place. One of these large and stately houses had not been built by a Count Dohna, or a Baron von Pleffen, or any other nobleman, but by the most honorable and renowned court tailor Pricker; and for the last few days this house had rejoiced in a new and glittering sign, on which appeared in large gilt letters, "Court Tailor to her majesty the dowager queen, and to her majesty the reigning queen." But this house, with its imposing inscription, was also surrounded by dirty, miserable cabins. In its immediate neighborhood was the small house which has already been described as the dwelling of poor Anna Schommer.

A deep and unbroken silence reigned in this part of Berlin, and the equipages of the royal family and nobility were rarely seen there, except when the king gave an entertainment at Charlottenburg.

But to-day a royal carriage was driven rapidly from the palace through this desolate region, and toward the Linden Avenue. Here it stopped, and four gentlemen alighted. They were the king; the royal architect, Major Knobelsdorf; the grand chamberlain, Von Pollnitz; and Jordan, the head of police and guardian of the poor.

The king stood at the beginning of the Linden Avenue, and looked earnestly and thoughtfully at the large desolate surface spread out before him; his clear bright glance flew like lightning here and there.

"You must transform this place for me, Knobelsdorf; you must show yourself a very Hercules. You have the ability, and I will furnish the money. Here we will erect a monument to ourselves, and make a glorious something of the nothing of this desert. We will build palaces and temples of art and of religion. Berlin is at present without every thing which would make it a tempting resort for the Muses. It is your affair, Knobelsdorf, to prepare a suitable reception for them."

"But the Muses are willing to come without that," said Pollnitz, with his most, graceful bow, "for they would discover here the young god Apollo, who, without doubt, found it too tiresome in heaven, and has condescended to become an earthly king."

The king shrugged his shoulders. "Pollnitz," he said, "you are just fitted to write a book of instructions for chamberlains and court circles; a book which would teach them the most honied phrases and the most graceful flatteries. Why do you not compose such a work?"

"It is absolutely necessary, your majesty, in order to write a book to have a quiet study in your own house, Where you can arrange every thing according to your own ideas of comfort and convenience. As I do not at present possess a house, I cannot write this book."

The king laughed and said: "Well, perhaps Knobelsdorf can spare a small spot here, on which to erect your Tusculum. But we must first build the palace of the queen-mother, and a few other temples and halls. Do you not think, Jordan, that this is a most suitable place on which to realize all those beautiful ideals of which we used to dream at Rheinsberg? Could we not erect our Acropolis here, and our temples to Jupiter and Minerva?"

"In order to convince the world that it is correct in its supposition," said Jordan, smiling, "that your majesty is not a Christian, but a heathen, who places more faith in the religion of the old Greeks than in that of the new Church fathers."

"Do they say that? Well, they are not entirely wrong if they believe that I have no great admiration for popery and the Church. This Church was not built by Christ, but by a crafty priesthood. Knobelsdorf, on this spot must stand the temple of which I have so often dreamed. There is space to accomplish all that fancy could suggest or talent execute."

"Then the palace of the dowager queen must not be placed here?" asked Knobelsdorf.

"No, not here; this place has another destination, of which I will speak further to you this evening, and learn if my plan has your approval. I dare say my most quarrelsome Jordan will make some objections. Eh bien, nous verrons. We will proceed and seek a situation for the palace of the queen."

"If your majesty will permit me," said Pollnitz, while the king with his three companions passed slowly down the Linden Avenue, "I will take the liberty of pointing out to you a spot, which appears most suitable to me for this palace. It is at the end of the avenue, and at the entrance to the park; it is a most beautiful site, and there would be sufficient room to extend the buildings at will."

"Show us the place," said the king, walking forward.

"This is it," said Pollnitz, as they reached the end of the avenue.

"It is true," said the king, "here is space enough to erect a palace. What do you think, Knobelsdorf, will this place answer?"

"We must begin by removing all those small houses, your majesty; that would, of course, necessitate their purchase, for which we must obtain the consent of the possessors, who would, many of them, be left shelterless by this sudden sale."

"Shelterless!" said the king; "since Jordan has become the father of the poor, none are shelterless," as he glanced toward his much-beloved friend. "This spot seems most suitable to me. The palace might stand on this side; on that a handsome public building, perhaps the library, and uniting the two a lofty arch in the Grecian style. We will convert that wood into a beautiful park, with shady avenues, tasteful parterres, marble statues, glittering lakes, and murmuring streams."

"Only a Frederick could dream it possible to convert this desolate spot into such a fairy land," said Jordan, smiling. "For my part, I see nothing here but sand, and there a wood of miserable stunted trees."

The king smiled. "Blessed are they who believe without having seen," he said. "Well, Knobelsdorf, is there room here to carry out our extensive plans?"

"Certainly; and if your majesty will furnish me with the requisite funds, the work can be begun without delay."

"What amount will be required?"

"If it is all executed as your majesty proposes, at least a million."

"Very well, a million is not too much to prepare a pleasure for the queen-mother."

"But," said Pollnitz, "will not your majesty make those poor people acquainted with their fate, and console them by a gracious word for being compelled to leave their homes? It has only been a short time since I was driven by the rain to take shelter in one of those houses, and it made me most melancholy, for I have never seen such want and misery. There were starving children, a woman dying of grief, and a drunken man. Truly as I saw this scene I longed to be a king for a few moments, that I might send a ray of happiness to brighten this gloomy house, and dry the tears of these wretched people."

"It must have been a most terrible sight if even Pollnitz was distressed by it," cried the king, whose noble countenance was overshadowed with sorrow. "Come, Jordan, we will visit this house, and you shall assist in alleviating the misery of its inhabitants. You, Knobelsdorf, can occupy yourself in making a drawing of this place. Lead the way, Pollnitz."

"My desire at last attained," thought Pollnitz, as he led the king across the common. "It has been most difficult to bring the king here, but I am confident my plan will succeed. Dorris Ritter doubtless expects us; she will have considered my words, and yielding to her natural womanly coquetry, she will have followed my counsel, and have made use of the clothing I sent her yesterday."

They now stood before the wretched house which Pollnitz had indicated.

"This house has truly a most gloomy appearance," said the king.

"Many sad tears have been shed here," said Pollnitz, with the appearance of deep sympathy.

The door of the shop was merely closed; the king pushed it open, and entered with his two companions. No one came forward to meet them; silence reigned in the deserted room.

"Permit me, your majesty, to go into that room and call the woman; she probably did not hear us enter."

"No, I will go myself," said the king; "it is well that I should occasionally seek out poverty in its most wretched hiding-place, that I may learn to understand its miseries and temptations."

"Ah! my king," said Jordan, deeply touched, "from to-day your people will no longer call you their king, but their father."

The king stepped quickly to the door which Pollnitz had pointed out; the two gentlemen followed, and remained standing behind him, glancing curiously over his shoulder.

The king crossed the threshold, and then stood motionless, gazing into the room. "Is it possible to live in such a den?" he murmured.

"Yes, it is possible," replied a low, scornful voice; "I live here, with misery for my companion."

The king was startled by this voice, and turned toward that side of the room from which it proceeded; only then seeing the woman who sat in the farthest corner. She remained motionless, her hands folded on her lap; her face was deadly pail, but of a singularly beautiful oval; the hair encircling her head in heavy braids, was of a light, shining blond, and had almost the appearance of a halo surrounding her clear, pale face, which seemed illumined by her wonderful eyes.

"She has not made use of the things which I sent," thought Pollnitz; "but I see she understands her own advantages. She is really beautiful; she looks like a marble statue of the Virgin Mary in some poor village church."

The king still stood gazing, with an earnest and thoughtful expression, at this woman, who looked fixedly at him, as if she sought to read his thoughts. But he remained quiet, and apparently unmoved. Did the king recognize this woman? did he hear again the dying melodies of his early youth? was he listening to their sweet, but melancholy tones? Neither Pollnitz nor Dorris Ritter could discover this in his cold, proud face.

Jordan broke this silence by saying gently, "Stand up, my good woman, it is the king who is before you."

She rose slowly from her seat, but her countenance did not betray the least astonishment or pleasure.

"The king!" she said; "what does the king desire in this den of poverty and misery?"

"To alleviate both poverty and misery if they are undeserved," said the king softly.

She approached him quickly, and made a movement as if she would offer him her hand. "My wretchedness is undeserved," she said, "but not even a king can alleviate it."

"Let me, at least, attempt to do so. In what can I assist you?"

She shook her head sadly. "If King Frederick, the son of Frederick William the First, does not know, then I do not."

"You are poor, perhaps in want?"

"I do not know—it is possible," she said absently; "how can I among so many pains and torments distinguish between despair and anguish, and want and privation?"

"You have children?"

"Yes," she said, shuddering, "I have children, and they suffer from hunger; that I know, for they often pray to me for bread, when I have none to give them."

"Why does not their father take care of them; perhaps he is not living?"

"He lives, but not for us. He is wiser than I, and forgets his grief in drink, while I nourish the gnawing viper at my heart."

"You have, then, nothing to ask of me?" said the king, becoming indignant.

She gazed at him long and searchingly, with her great piercing eyes. "No," she said harshly. "I have nothing to ask."

At this moment the door was thrown open, and the two children, Karl and Anna, ran in, calling for their mother; but they became silent on perceiving the strangers, and crept shyly to her side. Dorris Ritter was strangely moved by the appearance of her children; her countenance, which had borne so hard an expression, became mild and gentle. She grasped the hands of the two children, and with them approached the king.

"Yes, your majesty, I have a petition to make. I implore your pity for my children. They are pure and innocent as God's angels; let not the shame and misery of their parents fall upon their heads. King Frederick, have pity on my children!"

And overcome by her emotions and her anguish, this unhappy woman sank with her children at the feet of the king. The king regarded her thoughtfully, then turned to Jordan.

"Jordan," said he, "to you I intrust the care of these children."

The wretched woman started to her feet, and pressed her children to her arms with an expression as terrified and full of agony as that of the noble and touching statue of the Greek Niobe.

"Ah! you would tear my children from me! No, no, I ask nothing; we need no mercy, no assistance; we will suffer together; do not separate us. They would cease to love me; they would learn to despise me, their mother, who only lives in their presence; who, in the midst of all her sorrow and grief, thanks God daily upon her bended knees that he gave her these children, who alone have saved her from despair and death."

"You have uttered very wild and godless words," said the king. "You should pray to God to make your heart soft and humble. To be poor, to suffer from hunger, to have a drunken husband, are great misfortunes, but they can be borne if you have a pure conscience. Your children shall not be parted from you. They shall be clothed and taught, and I will also see what can be done for you. And now farewell."

And the king, bowing slightly, turned toward the door, and in doing so placed a few pieces of gold on the table. Dorris had watched every movement; she started wildly forward and seized the gold, which she handed to the king.

"Your majesty," she said, with flashing eyes, "I only implored mercy for my children; I did not beg for myself. My sufferings cannot be wiped out with a few pieces of gold."

The countenance of the king assumed a most severe expression, and he threw an annihilating glance on this bold woman, who dared to oppose him.

"I did not give the gold to you, but to your children," he said; "you must not rob them." He then continued more gently: "If you should ever need and desire assistance, then turn to me; I will remember your poverty, not your pride. Tell me your name, therefore, that I may not forget."

The poor, pale woman glanced searchingly at him. "My name," she said thoughtfully, as if to herself, "King Frederick wishes to know my name. I am called—I am called Anna Schommer."

And as she replied, she placed her hand upon the head of her little daughter, as if she needed a support. Thus she stood trembling, but still upright, with head erect, while the king and his suite turned toward the door. Her son, who had kept his eyes upon the king, now followed him and lightly touched his mantle.

His mother saw it, and raising her arm threateningly, while with the other she still supported herself by leaning on her child, she cried: "Do not touch him, my son. Kings are sacred."

Frederick, already standing on the threshold, turned once more; his great, luminous eyes rested inquiringly on this pale, threatening figure. An indescribably sad smile played upon his features, but he spoke no word; and slowly turning, he passed through the door, and hurried silently from the shop.

Dorris Ritter uttered a low cry when she no longer saw him; her hands slid powerless from the head of her child, and hung heavily at her side. The child, thus set at liberty, hurried out to gaze at the king and his escort.

The poor woman was all alone—alone with her grief and painful memories. She stood for a long time motionless and silent, as if unconscious, then a dull, heavy groan escaped from her breast, and she fell as if struck by lightning. "He did not even know me," she cried. "For him I suffer pain and misery, and he passes by, and throws me the crumbs of benevolence which fall from his bountiful table." For many minutes she lay thus broken and trembling; then, suddenly excited by pride and revenge, she arose, with a wild gleam in her eyes. She raised her hand as if calling upon God to witness her words, and said solemnly, "He did not recognize me to-day, but a day will come on which he shall recognize me—the day on which I avenge my wretched and tormented life! He is a royal king and I a poor woman, but the sting of a venomous insect suffices to destroy even a king. Revenge I will have; revenge for my poisoned existence."



CHAPTER XVII.

THE POLITICIAN AND THE FRENCH TAILOR.

Without, the scene had changed in the meanwhile. The attention of the people had been attracted to the king's presence by the royal equipage which was slowly driving down the street, and one and all hurried from their houses to see and greet their handsome young monarch. Men and women, young and old, were running about confusedly, each one inquiring of his neighbor why the king had come, and where he might now be, as his carriage was apparently awaiting him. And why was that fat man, who was seated on the sidewalk, sketching this sandy place with its poor little houses?

Even the proud and self-satisfied Mr. Pricker had not considered it beneath his dignity to descend to the street door, where he took his stand surrounded by his assistants and apprentices.

"It is said the king has gone into the house of Schommer, the grocer," said one of his assistants, returning from a reconnoissance he had made among the noisy and gossiping multitude.

Mr. Pricker shook his head gravely. "He must have been misinformed, for he undoubtedly intended coming to this house and paying me a visit, an intention which would be neither novel nor surprising in my family. None of the rulers of the house of Hohenzollern have as yet neglected to pay a visit to the house of Pricker. The present king will not fail to observe this noble custom, for—"

The worthy Mr. Pricker was interrupted by the shouts of the people. The king had appeared upon the streets, and was greeted with vociferous cheers, amid the waving of hats and handkerchiefs.

Mr. Pricker, observing with intense satisfaction that the king had turned and was advancing in the direction of his house, stepped forward with a self-gratulatory smile, and placed himself immediately at the side of the king's path. But the king passed by without noticing him. On this occasion he did not return the greeting of the people in quite so gracious a manner as usual; his eye was dim, and his brow clouded. Without even favoring the smiling and bowing Pricker with a glance, he passed on to the carriage which awaited him in front of the court dressmaker's. The king entered hastily, his cavaliers following him, and the carriage drove off. The shouting of the populace continued, however, until it disappeared in the distance.

"Why do these poor foolish people shout for joy?" grumbled Mr. Pricker, shrugging his shoulders. Now that the king had taken no notice of him, this man was enraged. "What do they mean by these ridiculous cries, and this waving of hats? The king regarded them as discontentedly as if they were vermin, and did not even favor them with a smile. How low-spirited he is! his not recognizing me, the court dressmaker of his wife, shows this conclusively. It must have been his intention to visit me, for his carriage had halted immediately in front of my door; in his depression he must have entirely forgotten it."

The crowd had begun to disperse, and but a few isolated groups could now be seen, who were still eagerly engaged in discussing the king's appearance.

At a short distance from Mr. Pricker were several grave and dignified citizens, dressed in long coats ornamented with immense ivory buttons, and wearing long cues, which looked out gravely from the three-cornered hats covering their smooth and powdered hair.

Mr. Pricker observed these citizens, and with a friendly greeting beckoned to them to approach. "My worthy friends, did you also come to see the king?"

"No, we were only passing, but remained standing when we saw the king."

"A very handsome young man."

"A very wise and learned young king."

"And still—"

"Yes, and still—"

"Yes, that is my opinion also, worthy friends," sighed Mr. Pricker.

"The many innovations and ordinances; it terrifies one to read them."

"Every day something new."

"Yes, it is not as it was in the good old times, under the late lamented king. Ah, we then led a worthy and respectable life. One knew each day what the next would bring forth. He who hungered to-day knew that he would also do so on the morrow; he who was rich to-day knew that he would still be so on the morrow. Ours was an honest and virtuous existence. Prudence and propriety reigned everywhere; as a husband and father, the king set us an exalted example."

"It is true, one ran the risk of being struck occasionally; and if a man had the misfortune to be tall, he was in danger of being enrolled among the guards," said another. "But this was all. In other respects, however, one lived quietly enough, smoked his pipe, and drank his pot of beer, and in these two occupations we could also consider the king as our model and ideal."

"But now!"

"Yes, now! Every thing changes with the rapidity of the wind. He who but yesterday was poor, is rich to-day; the man who was rich yesterday, is to-day impoverished and thrown aside; this was the fate of the Privy Counsellor von Eckert. I worked for him, and he was a good customer, for he used a great many gloves, almost a dozen pair every month; and now I have lost this good customer by the new government."

"But, then, Eckert deserved it," said the fat beer brewer. "He oppressed the people, and was altogether an arrogant puffed-up fellow, who greeted nobody, not even myself. It serves him right that the king has taken the new house in Jager Street away from him; there was justice in that."

"But the late lamented king had given it to him, and his last will should have been honored."

"Yes, that is true; the last will of the late lamented monarch should have been honored," they all exclaimed with earnest gravity.

"Oh, we will have to undergo a great many trials," sighed Mr. Pricker. "Could you believe, my friends, that they contemplate depriving us of our respectable cue, and replacing it with a light, fantastic, and truly immoral wig?"

"That is impossible! That can never be! We will never submit to that!" exclaimed the assembled group, with truly Grecian pathos.

"They wish to give us French fashions," continued Pricker; "French fashions and French manners. I can see the day coming when we will have French glovemakers and shoemakers, French hair-dressers and beer-brewers; yes, and even French dressmakers. I see the day coming when a man may with impunity hang out a sign with French inscriptions over his shop-door, and when he who intersperses his honest German with French phrases, will no longer be well beaten. Ah, the present king will not, like his lamented predecessor, have two girls arrested because they have said 'charmant;' he will not, with his own hands, belabor the young lads who have the assurance to appear on the streets in French costumes, as the deceased king so often did. Every thing will be different, but not better, only more French."

"Yes, could it be believed," exclaimed the fat beer-brewer, "that they think of crying down beer, the favorite beverage of the late lamented king, which, at all events, should be holy in the sight of his son? At court no more beer will be drank, but only French wines; and he who wishes to be modern and acceptable at court will turn up his nose at the beer-pot, and drink mean and adulterated wines. Yes, even coffee is coming into fashion, and the coffee-house keeper in the pleasure-garden, who, up to the present time, was only permitted to make coffee for the royal family and a few other rich people at court, has not alone received permission to serve coffee to everybody, but every innkeeper may do the same thing."

"And have you heard," asked the glovemaker gloomily, "that the two hotel-keepers in Berlin, Nicolai and St. Vincent, have their rivals, and will no longer keep the only houses where a good dinner can be had for money? Two French cooks have already arrived, and one of them has opened a house in Frederick Street, the other one in King Street, which they call 'Restauration.'"

"Yes," said the shoemaker with a sigh, "I went to the French house in Frederick Street yesterday, and ate a meal out of curiosity. Ah, my friends, I could have cried for rage, for I am sorry to say that it was a better meal than we could ever get at Nicolai's or St. Vincent's; moreover I paid less for it."

"It is a shame. A Frenchman comes here and gives a better and cheaper dinner than a native of Berlin," said Mr. Pricker. "I tell you we will all have much to endure; and even my title is insufficient to protect me from insult and humiliation, for it might happen that—"

Mr. Pricker suddenly became silent and stared toward the centre of the street, astonishment and curiosity depicted on his countenance and on that of his friends, who followed the direction of his glances.

And in truth a very unusual spectacle presented itself to these worthy burghers. A carriage was slowly passing along the street drawn by two weary and smoking horses. This carriage was of the elegant and modern French make, now becoming fashionable at court, and was called a chaise. As the top was thrown back, its occupants could very well be seen.

On the front seat were three persons. The first was a man of grave and earnest demeanor and commanding appearance. His tall and well-made figure was clad in a black velvet coat with little silver buttons, ornamented on the sleeves and breast with elegant lace ruffles. His hair, which was turning gray, was twisted in a knot at the back of his head, from which a ribbon of enormous length was pendant. A small three-cornered hat, of extraordinary elegance, rested on the toupet of curls which hung down on either side of his head and shaded the forehead, which displayed the dignity and sublimity of a Jupiter.

At his side sat two females, the middle one an elderly, grave-looking lady; the other a beautiful young girl, with smiling lips, glowing black eyes, and rosy cheeks. The elegant and graceful attire of these ladies was very different from the grave and sober costume of the women of Berlin. Their dresses were of lively colors, with wide sleeves bordered with lace, and with long waists, the low cut of which in front displayed in the one the beauty and freshness of her neck; and in the other, the richness of a guipure scarf with which her throat was covered. Their heads were covered with immense toupets of powdered hair, surmounted by little velvet hats, from which long and waving ribbons hung down behind.

On the back seat were three other young ladies dressed in the same style, but less richly. This first carriage was followed by a second, which contained six young men in French costumes, who were looking around with lively curiosity, and laughed so loudly that the worthy burgher who stood in front of Pricker's house could hear every word they uttered, but unfortunately could understand nothing.

"Frenchmen!" murmured Mr. Pricker, with a slight shudder.

"Frenchmen!" echoed his friends, staring at this novel spectacle.

But how? Who was that standing by the first carriage which had halted in front of Mr. Pricker's house? Who was that speaking with the young girl, who smilingly leant forward from the carriage and was laughing and jesting with him? How? Was this young man really the son and heir of Mr. Pricker? Was he speaking to these strangers, and that, too, in French? Yes, Mr. Pricker could not deceive himself, it was his son; it was William, his heir.

"How? Does your son speak French?" asked the glovemaker, in a reproachful tone.

"He so much desired to do so," said Mr. Pricker, with a sigh, "that I was forced to consent to give him a French teacher."

William, who had observed his father, now hurried across the street. The young man's eyes glowed; his handsome face was enlivened with joy; his manner denoted eagerness and excitement.

"Father," said he, "come with me quickly! These strangers are so anxious to speak with you. Just think how fortunate! I was passing along the Charlottenburg road when I met the travellers. They addressed me in French, and inquired for the best hotel in Berlin. It was lucky that I understood them, and could recommend the 'City of Paris.' Ah, father, what a beautiful and charming girl that is; how easy and graceful! In the whole city of Berlin there is not so beautiful a girl as Blanche. I have been walking along by the side of the carriage for half an hour, and we have been laughing and talking like old friends; for when I discovered who they were, and why they were coming to Berlin, I told them who my father was directly, and then the old gentleman became so friendly and condescending. Come, father, Mr. Pelissier longs to make your acquaintance."

"But I do not speak French," said Mr. Pricker, who, notwithstanding his antipathy to Frenchmen, still felt flattered by this impatience to make his acquaintance.

"I will be your interpreter, father. Come along, for you will also be astonished when you hear who this Mr. Pelissier is." And William drew his father impatiently to the carriage.

Mr. Pricker's friends stood immovable with curiosity, awaiting his return with breathless impatience. At last he returned, but a great change had taken place in Mr. Pricker. His step was uncertain and reeling; his lips trembled, and a dark cloud shaded his brow. He advanced to his friends and regarded them with a wild and vacant stare. A pause ensued. The hearts of all beat with anxiety, and an expression of intense interest was depicted on every countenance. At last Mr. Pricker opened his trembling lips, and spoke in deep and hollow tones:

"They are Frenchmen! yes, Frenchmen!" said he. "It is the new tailor sent for by the king. He comes with six French assistants, and will work for the king, the princes and the cavaliers of the court. But he is not only a tailor but also makes ladies' clothing; and his wife and daughter are the most celebrated dressmakers of Paris; they also are accompanied by three female assistants, and expect to work for the queen, the princesses, and the entire court."

"But that is impossible," exclaimed his friends. "The laws of our guild protect us. No woman can carry on the business of a tailor."

"Nevertheless they will do so," said Pricker; "the king has accorded them this privilege. Yes, every thing will now be different, handsomer and better. The king summons these French dressmakers to Berlin, and the monsters ask my advice. They wish to know of me how they are to demean themselves toward the members of the guild. The new French dressmaker asks advice of me, of the court dressmaker Pricker! Ha, ha, ha! is not that laughable?" And Mr. Pricker broke out into a loud, wild laugh, which made his friends shudder, and then sunk slowly into the arms of the glover. His son William, who had been a witness of this scene, hurried to his father's assistance, and carried him into the house.

From his carriage Mr. Pelissier looked proudly down upon the poor tailor. "The good master has fainted," said he with an Olympic smile. "And he has good reason, for ruin is before him. He is a lost man; for how could he, an unknown German tailor, dare to compete with Pelissier, the son of the celebrated tailor of Louis the Fourteenth? That would evince an assurance and folly with which I could not credit even a German brain."



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE DOUBLE RENDEZVOUS.

The little maid of honor, Louise von Schwerin, was walking with quick steps up and down her room; she had locked her door to secure herself from interruption. She wished to read once more the mysterious note found yesterday in the bunch of flowers, and once more to meditate undisturbed upon its contents. Louise knew the note was from the handsome gardener Fritz Wendel; from him came the beautiful flowers she found daily upon the sill of her window, and he only could have concealed the note amongst them. There were but a few lines, entreating her to meet him that night at eight o'clock, in the grotto of the conservatory, where she should learn an important and dangerous secret.

"What can the secret be?" asked Louise of herself, after reading the note again and again. "Perhaps," she said, with a roguish smile, "perhaps he thinks that his love for me is a secret. Dangerous it certainly is for him and for me, but a secret it is not. I am certain that he loves me, but it must be very sweet to be told so; to hear his lips confess at last what until now I have only read in those eloquent eyes. Alas! is it not fearful, intolerable, to wait so long for a declaration of love? Two months so near each other, but not one moment of sweet, unrestrained intercourse; always hemmed in by this cold, ceremonious, stupid court life; surrounded by spies and eavesdroppers; never alone, never free. Is it not terrible to have a sweetheart, and never to have refused him a kiss, because he has never had the opportunity to demand one? They say there is rapture in the first kiss of your lover—in his first embrace. I must know this for myself, that they may no longer laugh and say I am a silly child without experience. I will have my experience! I will have my love affairs as well as the other ladies of the court, only mine shall be more extraordinary, more romantic. To be loved by a baron or a count is indeed commonplace; but to be adored by a gardener, who is beautiful as the god Apollo, and whose obscure birth is his only fault—this is original, this is piquant. Ah, Madame von Brandt laughed at me yesterday, at my stupidity and innocence; she was merry at my expense, because I had never been kissed, never received a stolen embrace, which she declared to be the most charming event in a woman's life. All the ladies laughed at me as she said this, and called me an unbaked roll left out in the cold—which never felt the fire. They shall laugh at me no longer," cried Louise, with spiteful tears in her eyes and stamping her little foot. "No one shall mock at me again; and if they do, I will tell them I too have a lover; that I have had a declaration of love, and have received my lover's first kiss. I must be able to say this, and therefore I will meet Fritz this evening in the grotto of the conservatory." Even while saying this she was seized with a cold trembling; one moment her heart stood still, and then almost suffocated her with its rapid beating. A soft voice seemed to warn her against this imprudence; she seemed to see the pale face of her mother, and to hear her living counsels: "Do not go, Louise, Frit Wendel is no lover for Louise von Schwerin." Her guardian angel spread once more his white wings around her, longing to protect and save. But, alas! she heard another voice, breathing flattering words and sweet promises. She saw a beautiful youth with his soft, large, hazel eyes fixed imploringly upon her. Louise felt the irresistible charm of the forbidden, the disallowed, the dangerous. Louise closed her ear to the warning voice; her good genius had no power over her. "I will go," she said, and a rosy blush suffused her childish cheeks; "nothing shall prevent me!" Louise was now quite resolved; but she was not at peace with herself, and from time to time she hoped some unexpected occurrence, some unconquerable obstacle, would prevent her from taking this imprudent step. No difficulty arose; chance seemed to favor her meeting with her obscure lover.

Sophia Dorothea was to visit her daughter-in-law at Schonhausen, not as a queen, but without pomp and splendor. The two eldest maids of honor only would accompany her. Neither Louise von Schwerin nor Laura von Pannewitz were to be of the party. Sophia was glad that at least for a few hours she would not see the lovely, sad face, and soft, melancholy eyes of Laura, nor hear the low and plaintive tones of her accusing voice. The king had gone to Potsdam, it was therefore unnecessary to watch Laura. Indeed, of late the queen scarcely believed in this love, of which she had been so confident; she had tried in vain to discover any trace of an understanding between Laura and the king. Frederick scarcely noticed Laura, and had spoken to her but once since that stormy day; then he had laughingly asked her why she was so pale and languishing, and if it was an unhappy love which made her look so mournful. Since that day the queen no longer believed in the passion of the king for Laura, and she reproached Madame von Brandt with having misled her.

Madame von Brandt smiled mysteriously. "I did not say, your majesty, that the king loved Laura; your suspicions fell upon him, and I did not undeceive you."

"And why not?" said the queen angrily; "why did you not make known to me the name of Laura's lover?"

"Because I had solemnly sworn not to disclose it," said Madame von Brandt.

"Is it not the king? then all the better for my poor Laura."

"Still, I venture to implore your majesty to induce my dear young friend to accept the hand of Count Voss; she will thus perhaps be cured of her unhappy and hopeless passion."

Sophia was resolved to follow this advice; she therefore drove to Schonhausen to see the young queen, and consult with her as to the most efficacious means of accomplishing this result. Louise von Schwerin thought the queen might still change her mind and command her to accompany her; she hoped and feared this at the same time. She would have wept bitterly at this result, but she knew it would be best for her. Between anxiety and hope, doubts and fears, the time passed slowly.

"There rolls a carriage from the court," said Louise; she heard the loud cries of the guard and the beating of the drums.

It was the queen leaving for Schonhausen. Louise was now free, now unobserved; nothing could prevent her from going to the grotto. With trembling steps and a quickly beating heart she slipped through the dark alleys of the garden and entered the conservatory. All was still and wrapped in a sweet twilight. The delightful odor of orange blossoms filled the place; which, like the subtle vapor of opium, intoxicated her senses. Breathless with fear and expectation she entered the grotto; her eyes were blinded by the sudden darkness, and she sank to the ground.

"Thank God," she murmured softly, "I am alone, he is not here! I shall have time to recover, and then I can return; I am so frightened—I ought not to have come. Perhaps the ladies of the court have arranged this practical joke at my expense. Yes, that is it. It was folly to believe he would dare to ask me to meet him; he is too timid—too humble. Yes, it is a trap laid for me, and I have fallen into it."

She rose hastily to fly back to the palace; but it was too late; a strong arm was gently thrown around her neck, and she was drawn back to her seat. She tried to free herself, but could not; she heard the loud beating of his heart, which found an echo in her own; she felt his lips pressed to hers, but her childish modesty was aroused; she found she had the wish and courage to free herself.

"Let me go!" she cried breathlessly; "let me go! do not hold me a moment! I will go! I will go this instant! How dare you treat me in this manner? How and why did you come?" and Louise, who was now free, remained standing to hear his reply.

"How did I come here?" said the handsome gardener, in a submissive but pleading tone. "Every night for four weeks I have worked upon this subterranean alley; this dark path, which should lead me here unseen. While others slept and dreamed I worked; and also dreamed with working eyes. Mine were happy dreams. My work was done, and I could reach this consecrated spot unseen. I saw in my vision an angel, whom I adore, and to whom I have consecrated every hour, every moment of my life. Look, Mademoiselle, at the opening behind that large orange tree, that is the way to my paradise; through that opening I can reach a staircase, leading to a small cellar; another pair of steps takes me to a trap-door leading directly to my room. You can well imagine it required time, and strength, and courage to prepare this way."

Louise approached the opening curiously. This strange path made for her sake affected her more than all Fritz Wendel's words. Only a mighty love could have moved a man in the darkness and alone to such a task. Louise wished to conquer her confusion and to hide her embarrassment with light mockery and jesting.

"Truly," she said, laughing, "this is a dark and mysterious passage, but any one with a light would discover it. You know her majesty has the saloon illuminated occasionally in the evening, and takes her tea here."

"No one will find this opening," said the gardener. He pushed the wooden tub, in which the orange-tree grew, with his foot; it gave way to a slight touch, and turned round over the opening. "Look, Mademoiselle, the tree covers my secret."

"Open it! open it! I pray you, I must see it!"

"I will do so if you promise me not to leave me immediately."

"I promise! I promise!"

Fritz Wendel pushed back the orange-tree, then lifting Louise gently in his arms, he carried her to the grassplot, and seating her, he threw himself on his knees before her, and bowed, as if in adoration.

"You are my queen, the sovereign of my soul! I lay myself at your feet, as your slave. You alone can decide my fate. You can raise me to the heaven of heavens, or cast me in the dust. Say only the little words 'I love you!' this will give me strength and power to brave the whole world. I will acquire fame and honor, and at no distant day before God and the whole world I will demand your hand! If you say, 'Remain where you are, at my feet is your proper place; I despise the poor gardener, who dares to love the high-born lady!' then I will die; if I live I shall go mad. My brain reels at the thought of such wretchedness. I can die now, and bless you in dying; if I live in my madness I shall curse you for your cruelty."

He ceased, and raised his handsome face pleadingly to hers. Louise was speechless; she was intoxicated with the music of his voice and impassioned words.

"You do not answer me! Oh! before you cast me off consider my agony. The heart you despise contains a treasure of love and tenderness. No other man can love you as I do. You are my light and life. You are beautiful and fascinating; many will love you and seek your hand. Who but the poor gardener will die for you if you say no? To me you are more than the most lovely of women, you are a goddess! Oh, you know not what you have already made of me! what you will still make of me! When I saw you for the first time I was a poor, ignorant gardener, loving nothing but my flowers; knowing no language. The great book of nature was my only study. Since that glorious day in which I looked upon you as a radiant, heavenly vision, I have realized my poverty; I have blushed at my ignorance. My life has been one great effort to make myself worthy of you. Now, Louise, command me. What shall I do? What shall I become? If you do not despise and laugh at my love, if you love me a little in return, if you have hope, courage, and patience to wait, I will be worthy of you!"

"Alas!" said Louise, "this is the dream of a madman. The king and my noble and proud family would never consent that I should become your wife."

"As to the king," said Fritz, carelessly, "I would find means to obtain his consent, and honor and distinction, at his hands."

"I understand," said Louise, "the secret you intended to tell me—tell it now," she exclaimed, with a child's eager curiosity.

"Listen," said he, rising from his knees—"listen, but do not let us betray ourselves by loud words or exclamations."

"I hear steps," said Louise. "Oh, if we should be discovered!"

"Fear nothing; look there, Louise!" Her eye followed the direction of his hand.

Under the laurel-tree sat Laura von Pannewitz, and before her knelt Prince Augustus William, radiant with happiness, and covering her hands with kisses.

"Laura, my bride, my darling, when will the day come in which I can call you mine to all eternity?"

"That day will come when I am dead," said Laura, with a sad smile. "Yes, my prince, only when I am dead shall I be free to love you, and to pray for you. My freed spirit shall hover around you as your guardian angel, and protect you from all dangers. Oh, if I could die now, and fulfil this noble mission!" Louise was so absorbed in this scene that she did not notice Fritz Wendel as he drew near and again threw his arm around her.

"Look at them," he murmured; "he is a royal prince, and she only a poor maid of honor; he loves her, and she accepts his love, and fears no shame."

Louise laid her hand impatiently upon his lips and whispered, "Hush!" he covered her hand with kisses; they listened with subdued breathing to the pure and ardent vows of the two lovers.

For one moment Laura, carried away by her own feelings and the earnest words of her lover, allowed him to press his lips to her cheek, and returned his vows of love and constancy. But at this moment Louise heard the soft voice of Laura entreating her lover to leave her, and not to make her blush for herself.

"Promise me," she cried, "never again to embrace me; our love must remain pure, and only when we fear not God's holy eye, dare we pray to Him for assistance. Let us retain the right to shed innocent tears over our unhappy love, and lay it as a sacrifice at the foot of God's throne in that day when the world shall separate and despise us."

"No one shall dare to do that, Laura; you are my future wife; I shall be ever near to defend you with my life's blood! But I promise what you ask; I will restrain my heart; only in dreams will I embrace you; I swear this, my beloved. But the day will come when you will cancel this vow—the day when I will claim you before God and man as my wife!"

Laura took his hand with a sweet, confiding smile: "I thank you, darling, I thank you, but now we must part."

"Part! alas, we shall not meet again for weeks. I am commanded to accompany the king on a pleasure trip; for me there is but one earthly pleasure, to see you—to be at your side."

"Go," she said, smiling; "go without fear; we can never forget each other; however widely separated, you are always before me; I am always with you, although you see me not."

"Yes, Laura, there is not one moment of my life in which I do not see and hear you!"

"Well, then, go cheerfully with the king. Our hearts understand each other; our souls are inseparable."

The prince took her hand and pressed it to his heart, then silently they left the saloon.

Louise had long since freed herself from her lover, and she now arose, resolved to return to the palace. Fritz Wendel tried to detain her, but the weak and foolish child had gathered courage from the modest words and dignified example of Laura.

"If you touch me again, you have seen me for the last time! I will never again return to this grotto!" Fritz Wendel was encouraged by her words; he had not asked her to return, and she had half promised to do so.

"I will not dare to touch you again," he said, humbly; "but will you not promise me to come again?"

"Well, I suppose I shall have to come again to hear the end of poor Laura's romance."

"This romance can be of great use to us," he said, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips; "if mademoiselle accepts my love and allows me to hope I may one day become her husband, I will sell this secret to the king, and thus obtain his consent."

"You would not be so cruel as to betray them to the king?"

"Yes, there is nothing I would not do to obtain your hand."



BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

THE INTRIGUING COURTIERS.

"You are right," said Baron Pollnitz, "yes, you are right, dear Fredersdorf; this is not the way to vanquish our Hercules or to influence him. He has no heart, and is not capable of love, and I verily believe he despises women."

"He does not despise them," said Fredersdorf, "he is wearied with them, which is far worse. Women are always too ready to meet him; too many hearts have been given him unasked; no woman will ever have power over him."

"How, what then, my dear friend?" cried Pollnitz. "There are means to tame every living creature; the elephant and the royal lion can be tamed, they become under skilful hands gentle, patient, and obedient: is there no way to tame this king of beasts and hold him in bondage? Unless we can ensnare him, we will be less than nothing, subject to his arbitrary temper, and condemned to obey his will. Acknowledge that this is not an enviable position; it does not correspond with the proud and ambitious hopes we have both been for some time encouraging."

"Is it possible that when the king's chamberlain and a cunning old courtier like myself unite our forces the royal game can escape our artful and well-arranged nets?"

"Dear Fredersdorf, this must not, this shall not be. It would be an everlasting shame upon us both."

"What an unheard-of enormity, a king without a powerful and influential favorite!"

"Frederick shall have two, and as these places are vacant, it is but natural that we should strive to occupy them."

"Yes," said Fredersdorf, "we will seize upon them and maintain our position. You called the king a young Hercules—well, this Hercules must be tamed."

"Through love of Omphale."

"No, not exactly, but Omphale must lead him into a life of luxury, and put him to sleep by voluptuous feasts. Call to mind how the Roman Emperor Heliogabalus killed the proud and ambitious senators who wished to curtail his absolute power."

"I am not so learned as you are, my dear friend, and I confess without blushing that I know nothing of Heliogabalus."

"Listen, then: Heliogabalus was weary of being but the obedient functionary of the senate; he wished to rule, and to have that power which the senate claimed as its own. He kept his ambitious desires to himself, however, and showed the senators a contented and submissive face. One day he invited them to a splendid feast at his villa; he placed before them the most costly meats and the choicest wines. They were sitting around this luxurious table, somewhat excited by drink, when the emperor arose and said with a peculiar smile: 'I must go now to prepare for you an agreeable surprise and practical joke, which you will confess has the merit of originality.' He left the room, and the tipsy senators did not observe that the doors were locked and bolted from without. They continued to drink and sing merrily; suddenly a glass door in the ceiling was opened, and the voice of Heliogabalus was heard, saying: 'You were never satisfied with your power and glory, you were always aspiring after new laurels; this noble thirst shall now be satisfied.' A torrent of laurel wreaths and branches now fell upon the senators. At first they laughed, and snatched jestingly at the flying laurels. The most exquisite flowers were now added, and there seemed to be no end to the pelting storm. They cried out, 'Enough, enough,' in vain; the wreaths and bouquets still poured upon them in unceasing streams; the floor was literally a bed of roses. At last, terror took possession of them; they wished to escape, and rushed to the doors, but they were immovable. Through the sea of flowers, which already reached their knees, they waded to the window, but they were in the second story, and below they saw the Roman legions with their sharp weapons pointed in the air. Flight was impossible; they pleaded wildly for mercy, but the inexorable stream of flowers continued to flow. Higher and higher rose the walls around them; they could no longer even plead for pity; they were literally buried in laurels. At last nothing was to be seen but a vast bed of roses, of which not even a fragrant leaf was stirred by a passing breeze. Heliogabalus had not murdered his senators; he had suffocated them with sweets, that was all. Well, what do you think of my story?" said Fredersdorf.

"It is full of interest, and Heliogabalus must have been poetical; but I do not see the connection between the emperor and ourselves."

"You do not?" said his friend impatiently; "well, let us follow his example. We will intoxicate this mighty king with enervating pleasures, we will tempt him with wine and women, we will stifle him with flowers."

"But he has no taste for them," said Pollnitz, sighing.

"He does not care for the beauty of women, but he has other dangerous tastes; he has no heart, but he has a palate; he does not care for the love of women, but he enjoys good living—that will make one link in his fetters. Then he loves pomp and splendor; he has so long been forced to live meanly that wealth will intoxicate him; he will wish to lavish honors and rain gold upon his people. Frederick William has stowed away millions; we will help the son to scatter them."

"This will be a new and thrillingly agreeable pastime, in the ordering of which he could not have a better adviser than yourself, baron."

"While Frederick and yourself are building new palaces and planning new amusements, I will rule, and help him to bear the burden of state affairs."

"You will help him to scatter millions, and I will collect from the good Prussians new millions for him to scatter. It is to be hoped that some heavy drops from this golden shower will fall into my purse," said Pollnitz. "My finances are in an unhealthy state, and my landlord threatens to sell my furniture and my jewels, because for more than a year I have not paid my rent. You see now, Fredersdorf, that I must have that house in Jager Street. I count upon it so surely that I have already borrowed a few thousand dollars from some confiding noble souls, whom I have convinced that the house is mine."

"You shall have it," said Fredersdorf; "the king will give it to you as a reward for the plans you have drawn for the new palaces."

"Has he seen them?"

"Yes, and approves them. The papers are in his desk, and need but his royal signature."

"Ah!" said Pollnitz, "if they were but signed! What a glorious life would commence here! we would realize the Arabian Nights; and Europe would gaze with dazzled eyes at the splendor and magnificence of our court. How vexed the treasurer, Boden, will be when the king commands him to disburse for our revels and vanities the millions which he helped the late king to hoard together for far different purposes! This Boden," said Pollnitz thoughtfully, "will be our most dangerous opponent: you may believe this; I am somewhat versed in physiognomy. I have studied his countenance; he is a bold, determined man, who, when irritated, would even brave the king. All the other ministers agree with our plans, and will not stand in our way. They are not dangerous; I have made a compromise with them; they have resolved to think all we do right. But Boden was inflexible; he would not understand my secret signs or hints; flattery has no power over him, and he is alike indifferent to promises and threats. All my dexterously aimed arrows rebounded from the rough coat-of-mail with which his honesty has clothed him."

"Do not concern yourself about Boden," cried Fredersdorf, "he is a lost man; he falls without any aid from us. The king hates him, and is only waiting for an opportunity to dismiss him. Have you not noticed how contemptuously he treats him—never speaks to him or notices him, while he loves to chat with his other ministers? Frederick did not dismiss him from office at once, because the old king loved him. Boden was his treasurer and confidential friend, from whom he had no secrets; the king has therefore been patient; but his sun is set, of that you may be convinced. The king, though he seems not to notice him, watches him closely; one incautious movement and he will be instantly dismissed. This may happen this very day."

"How?" said Pollnitz.

"The king has adopted the plan, which he had ordered Knobelsdorf to sketch for him, for the new palace of the dowager-queen. It is to be a colossal wonder—the capitol of the north! the building of which will cost from four to five millions! These millions must come from Boden's treasury; he must respect the royal order. If he does, he is an unscrupulous officer, and the king can no longer put faith in him. If he dares oppose the royal command, he is a traitor, and the king, who demands silent and unconditional obedience from his officers, will dismiss him. The king feels this himself, and when he gave me these documents, he said, with a peculiar smile, 'This is a bitter pill for Boden—we will see if he is able to swallow it.' You see, now, that our good Boden stands between two pitfalls, from both of which he cannot hope to escape alive."

"Ah, if this is true," said Pollnitz, gayly, "our success is assured. The house in Jager Street will be mine, and you will be an influential minister. We will govern the ruler of Prussia, and be mighty in the land. Only think how all the courtiers will bow before us! The king will do nothing without our advice. I will make more debts. I will be as generous as Fouquet, and as lavish and luxurious as Lucullus; and if at last all my resources fail, I will do as Heliogabalus did; if my creditors become troublesome, the old Roman shall teach me how to silence them by some refinement in hospitality."

"And I, the lowly born," said Fredersdorf, "who have so long been a slave, will now have power and influence. The king loves me; I will be a true and faithful servant to him. I will be inflexible to those who have scorned me; those proud counts and barons, who have passed me by unnoticed, shall now sue to me in vain. The king's heart is mine, and I will be sustained by him. This tamed lion shall be drawn by prancing steeds in gilded chariots; we will anoint him with honey and feed him with nightingales' tongues; he shall bathe in Lachrymae Christi, and all that the most fantastic dream and the wildest flights of fancy can imagine shall be set before him. Those good epicurean Romans, who threw young maidens into their ponds for their eels to feed upon, in order that their meat might be tender and juicy, were sickly sentimentalists in comparison with what I shall be—" he stopped, for the door opened, and Boden, their hated enemy, stood before them. They looked upon him indifferently, as a doomed adversary. Boden approached quietly, and said to Fredersdorf:

"Have the kindness to announce me to his majesty."

"Has his majesty sent for you?" said Fredersdorf, carelessly.

"He has not sent for me, but please say to his majesty that I am come to speak with him on important business."

Fredersdorf stepped into the adjoining room, and returned quickly, saying with a triumphant and malicious smile: "The king says he will send for you when he wishes to speak with you. These were his exact words; accommodate yourself to them in future."

The minister's countenance was perfectly calm; his lip slightly trembled; but he spoke in his usual grave, composed manner: "The king may not desire to see me; but I, as an officer and minister of state, have the most urgent reasons for desiring an audience. Go and tell him this."

"These are proud, disrespectful words," said Pollnitz, smiling blandly.

"Which I will faithfully report to his majesty," said Fredersdorf.

"I fear your excellency will pay dearly for this speech," whispered Pollnitz.

"Fear nothing for me," said Boden, with a quiet smile.

"His majesty awaits you," said Fredersdorf, still standing at the door. Boden walked proudly by Fredersdorf, casting upon him a look of contempt, who returned it with a mocking grin.

"The fox is caught," he whispered, as the door closed upon him.

"Do you think so?" said Pollnitz. "I am surprised and somewhat anxious at the king's receiving him."

"Fear nothing, he is but received to be DISMISSED. The king's eye flamed, and his brow, usually so clear, was heavily clouded; this betokens storms; may they break upon Boden's devoted head! Come, let us watch the tempest; there is nothing more instructive than a royal hurricane."

"Let us profit by the occasion, then."

The two courtiers slipped noiselessly to the door and pushed the curtains carefully to one side, so as to see and hear clearly.



CHAPTER II.

THE KING AND SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY.

The king received the secretary with a solemn and earnest bow. He stood leaning upon his writing-table, his arms folded, and his glance fixed upon Boden. Many a bold man had trembled at the eagle glance of Frederick, but Boden looked up clear, and betrayed neither confusion nor hesitation.

"You insisted positively upon seeing me," said Frederick, sternly; "let me hear now what you have to say."

"I have much to say, and I must bespeak patience and indulgence; I fear that my words will seem dry and tedious to your majesty."

"Speak; I will myself determine how far I can grant you patience and indulgence."

"Your majesty is a fiery but noble and learned gentleman; besides this, you are young, and youth has a daring will—can renew the old and lumbering wheel and push the world forward in her progress. Your majesty will, can, and must do this; God has given you not only the power, but the intellect and strength. Your majesty will change many things and inaugurate new measures. The old times must give way before the new era. I saw that the first time I looked into my young king's eye—in that bold eye in which is written a great and glorious future for Prussia; I understood that we, who had served the sainted king, might not appear worthy or young enough to carry out the purposes of the royal successor of Frederick William. I waited, also, for my dismissal; but it came not. Your majesty did not remove me from my office, and I confess this gave me pleasure. I said to myself, The king will not destroy, he will improve; and if he believes that his father's old servants can help him in that, so will we serve him and carry out his purposes with a holy zeal. I know the secret machinery of state. The king concealed nothing from me. I will explain all this to the young king; I will make him acquainted with this complicated and widely spread power; I will have the honor to make known to him my knowledge of the revenue and its uses. I rejoiced in the hope that I may yet serve my fatherland.'"

"These are very friendly and perhaps well-meant propositions which you are making me," said the king, with a light laugh. "Happily, however, I do not need them. I know already what is necessary, and as I have found amongst the papers of my father all the accounts of the states-general, you can understand that I know exactly what I receive as revenue and what I am to disburse. Besides all this, I will not fatigue myself in minute details on this subject; I do not deem it of sufficient importance. My time is much occupied, and I have more important and better things to do than to weary myself over dull questions of finance."

"No, majesty," cried Boden, "you have nothing more important or better to do. The finances are the blood-vessels of the State, and the whole body would sicken and die if these vessels should be choked or irregular in their action."

"Then must we call the lancet to our aid," said the king. "I am the physician of this revenue, you are the surgeon only when I need the lancet; then will you strike the vein, and allow so much golden blood to flow as I think good and necessary."

"No, this will I not do!" said Boden, resolutely; "your majesty can dismiss me, but you cannot force me to act against my conscience."

"Boden!" cried the king in so loud and angry a tone that even the two listening courtiers trembled and turned pale.

"This man is already a corpse," whispered Pollnitz. "I already smell, even here, the refreshing fragrance of his body. We will bury him, and be his smiling heirs."

"Look, look at the fearful glance of the king!" whispered Fredersdorf; "his eyes crush the over-bold, even as the glance of Jove crushed the Titans. Yes, you are right, Boden is a dead man. The king is so filled with scorn, he has lost the power of speech."

"No, he opens his lips, let us listen."

"Boden," said the king, "you forget that you speak with the son, and not with the father. You were the favorite of Frederick William, but you are not mine; and I will not suffer this inconsiderate and self-confident manner. Remember that, and go on."

"So long as I am in your service," said the minister, with a slight bow, "it is my first and my holiest duty to express my opinions freely to your majesty, to give you counsel according to the best of my strength and my ability. It remains with your majesty to reject my advice and to act differently, but still according to the constitution of the State."

"The first duty of a servant is to give his counsel only when it is demanded; as I did not desire yours, you might have spared yourself this trouble."

"Your majesty did not ask my counsel, that is true," said the minister; "you only remembered me when you had commands to give as to the emptying of the royal treasury. Your majesty thought you had no use for your finance minister, as you had all the papers relating to the states general. Every one of your majesty's ministers is acquainted with these matters, and yet they would not feel able to decide the question of the disbursing of the kingly revenue, to say under what circumstances, and conformably to the powers of the States, this revenue should be disposed of. This, my king, requires a special knowledge, and I, as minister of finance, dare boast that I understand this matter."

The king's brow became more and more clouded. "That may be," said he, impatiently, "but I am not willing to be restrained in my operations by narrow-minded laws; I will not live meanly like my father, and think only of gathering millions together."

"Nor did King Frederick William live for that," said the minister boldly; "he lived economically, but where there was want, he knew how to give with a truly royal hand; this is proved by the provinces, by the cities and villages which he built out of dust and ashes; this is proved by the half million of happy men who now inhabit them in peace and comfort. More than three millions of dollars did the king give to Lithuania, which was a howling wilderness, filled with famine and pestilence, until relieved by the generosity of their monarch; and while doing this he watched with close attention the accounts of his cook and spent but little money on the royal table. No! The king did not only gather millions together; he knew how to disburse them worthily."

"This man must be crazy," whispered Pollnitz; "he dares to praise the dead king at the expense and in the teeth of the living; that is indeed bold folly, and must lead to his destruction. The king has turned away from him; see, he goes to the window and looks without; he will give himself time to master his scorn and conquer the desire which he feels to crush this daring worm to the earth. I tell you," said Pollnitz, "I would give Boden a hundred glasses of champagne from my cellar in the Jager Street if I could see the king punish him with his own hands."

The king turned again to the minister, who looked at him like a man who dared all and was resigned to all; he thought, with Pollnitz and Fredersdorf, that the king would crush him in his wrath. But Frederick's face was calm, and a strangely mild glance beamed in his eye.

"Well, if you praise my father for disbursing millions, so will you also be content with me, for it is my purpose zealously to imitate him. I will begin by putting my court upon a truly royal footing; I will live as it becomes the King of Prussia. The necessary preparations are already commenced, and a detailed plan lies now upon the table; I will sign it to-day."

"May I read it, your majesty?" said Boden.

The king nodded, Boden took the paper and glanced hastily over it, while the king folded his arms behind him and walked backwards and forwards.

"I find the king wondrously wearisome and patient," murmured Fredersdorf; "it is not his manner generally to withhold so long his crushing glances."

"And with what derisive laughter that man there reads my plan!" said Pollnitz, gnashing his teeth; "truly one might think he was making sport of it."

"Have you read it?" said the king, standing still before Boden, and looking at him sharply.

"Yes, your majesty, I have read it."

"Well, and what think you of it?"

"That only Pollnitz, who it is well known has no gold, and is only acquainted with debt, could have drawn out such a plan, for the realization of which, not only Prussian gold, but a fountain of gold from the Arabian Nights would be necessary."

"I swear I will break this fellow's neck!" said Pollnitz.

A faint smile might be seen on the lips of Frederick. "You do not approve of this plan?" said he.

"Your majesty, we have no strong box from which this sum can be abstracted, and if you are resolved to take from the State treasury the sum necessary for this purpose, so will this also be exhausted during the first year."

"Well, let us leave this plan for the present, and tell me how you stand as to the means necessary to build the palace of the queen-mother. Have you received my instructions?"

"I have received them."

"And you have disbursed the sum necessary?"

"No, sire, I cannot."

"How! cannot, when I your king and lord command it?"

Boden bowed respectfully. "Your majesty, there is a greater lord—that is, my conscience; my conscience forbids me to take this sum from the strong box designated. You require four millions of dollars, and you desire that this sum shall be taken from the money set apart for the maintenance of the army and the assistance of famished and suffering villages and towns. I acknowledge that the court of his sainted majesty was somewhat niggardly, and that you, sire, may justly find some changes necessary. If, however, it is determined to use for this purpose the funds set apart for other important objects, then must your majesty impose new and heavy taxes upon your subjects, or you must diminish the army."

"Diminish my army!" said the king; "never, never shall that be done!"

"Then, sire, if the building of a palace is absolutely necessary, take the sum for this purpose from your royal treasury; it contains now seven millions of dollars, and as there is no war in prospect, you may well use four millions of the seven in building a castle."

"No, this will not do!" said Frederick. "This money is set apart for other objects; you shall take these four millions from the designated sources."

"I have had already the honor to show your majesty the consequence of such a course. You declare you will not diminish the army: it only remains then to impose a new tax."

"Do that, then," said the king, indifferently; "write a command for a new tax; that is your affair."

The minister looked at the king in painful surprise, and a profound sorrow was painted in his face.

"If this must be so, your majesty," said he, with a deeply moved voice, "then is the hour of my dismissal at hand, and I know what I have to do; I am no longer young enough to bear the burden of a portfolio; I belong to the old and cautious time, and my ideas do not suit the young era. I ask your majesty, in all humility and submission, to give me my dismissal. Here is the paper which contains the plan of the palace; you will readily find another who will obey your commands. I am not sufficiently GROWN for this post of finance minister. I beg also for my dismissal."

"AT LAST," said the king, with glistening eyes.

"At last!" repeated Pollnitz; "truly it was a long time before this cowardly man could be brought to the point."

"Did I not tell you that the king was resolved to get rid of Boden?" said Fredersdorf; "but let us listen! no, why should we listen? Boden has handed in his resignation, and the king has accepted it. I confess my back aches from this crouching position; I will go and drink a glass of champagne to the health of the new minister of finance."

"You must not go. The king asked for you as Boden was announced, and commanded that we should wait here in the ante-room until called, as he had something of importance to communicate. Without doubt he will present me to-day with the deed of the house in Jager Street. Look! in the last window niche I see a pair of very inviting chairs; let us make ourselves comfortable."

The king had said "At last!" as Boden offered his resignation; after a short silence he added: "It seems to me that you hesitated a long time before resigning."

"It is true," said Boden sadly; "I certainly had occasion to take this step earlier, but I still hoped I might be useful to my king."

"And this hope has not deceived you," said Frederick, drawing near to Boden, and laying his hand on his shoulder; "I cannot accept your resignation."

Boden looked up amazed. The king's face was beautiful to behold—a touching and gentle expression spoke in every noble feature; his light-blue eye beamed with gladness and goodness.

"How! Your majesty will not accept my resignation?"

"No, it would be great folly in me," said Frederick, in a tone which brought tears to the eyes of the minister; "it would be great folly to deprive myself of so noble and faithful a servant. No, Boden, I am not so great a spendthrift as to cast away such a treasure. Now in order that you may understand your king, I will make you a confession: you had been slandered to me, and my distrust awakened. It was said of you that you filled the State treasury while the people hungered; it was said of you that you were resolved to hold on to your office, and therefore carried out the commands of the king, even though unjust to the people. I wished to prove you, Boden, to see if you had been SLANDERED or justly charged; I handled you, therefore, contemptuously; I gave you commissions which were oppressive; I drew upon the treasury so as to exhaust it fully; I wished to know if you were only a submissive servant or an honest man; I had long to wait, and your patience and forbearance were great. To-day I put you to the extremest proof, and by God! if you had carried out my unjust and unwise instructions, I would not only have deprived you of your office, but I would have held you to a strict account. You would have been a dishonest servant, who, in order to flatter the king, was willing to sin against the people. The welfare of my people is holy to me, and they shall not be oppressed by new taxes. Praised be God! I can say I understand my duties; may every ruler do the same. May they keep their eyes steadily fixed upon their great calling; may they feel that this exaltation, this rank of which they are so proud, so jealous, is the gift of the people, whose happiness is intrusted to them; that millions of men have not been created to be the slaves of one man, to make him more terrible and more powerful. The people do not place themselves under the yoke of a fellow-man to be the martyrs of his humor and the playthings of his pleasure. No, they choose from amongst them the one they consider the most just, in order that he may govern them; THE BEST, to be their father; the most humane, that he may sympathize and assist them; the bravest, to defend them from their enemies; the wisest, that they may not be dragged without cause into destructive wars—the man, in short, who seems to them the best suited to govern himself and them; to use the sovereign power, to sustain justice and the laws, and not to play the tyrant. These are my views of what a king should be, and I will fulfil my calling, so help me God! You, Boden, must stand by and give me honest help."

In the eyes of the minister might be seen joyful tears and a noble ambition; he bowed low and kissed the extended hand of the king.

"How gracious has God been to my fatherland in giving it such a prince!"

"You will not, then, insist upon your resignation?" said the king. "You are content to serve me, provided I do not diminish my army, and do not impose new taxes upon the people?"

"I will be proud and happy to serve my king," said Boden, deeply moved.

"I must tell you, Boden, this will be no light service, and my ministers will be hereafter less important personages than they have supposed themselves to be; I shall closely observe them all, and shall require much work of them, but I myself will be diligent. It seems to me an idle prince is a poor creature, that the world has little use for. I am resolved to serve my country with all my powers; but I will stand alone, independent, self-sustaining. My ministers will only be my instruments to carry out my purposes; they will have much to do, and have no influence. I will have no favorite, and never consult any other will than my own; but I shall require of them to express their opinions frankly and without fear in answer to my questions, and that they shall not fail to call my attention to any errors I may commit, either through haste or want of judgment."

"All this I will do," said Boden, deeply moved. "So truly as God will give me strength, I will serve my king and my fatherland faithfully to the end."