Frederick the Great and His Court. L. Muhlbach

am quite of your opinion," cried the king, and his face brightened at the thought of the delightful and costly dishes that the rich Pollnitz would set before his friends. "Listen: from time to time you can prepare for me the delightful bacon-pie that I once tasted at Grumbkou's. Oh, that was really splendid, and reminded one, as you say, of the wonders of fairy land! My cook obtained the receipt immediately; but what do you think? three bottles of champagne and three bottles of burgundy were necessary to stew the meat. I had to give up the intention of having such a pie, but I told Grumbkou that when I felt like eating such an expensive dish, I would be his guest."

      "I will obey your commands, your highness," said Pollnitz, earnestly, and bowing low to the king. "Let us continue to furnish my house; after that we will speak of the pie. As hunting is decided upon, we must now consider the horses, for I cannot ask my friends to hunt on foot, or walk to the lake. I must have beautiful and noble steeds, and as horses and carriages do not take care of themselves, I must have a number of servants to attend to them."

      "That is true," said the king, adding the carriages and horses to his list. "That is true; but I find that you think a great deal of your friends and very little of yourself. Your whole demand, so far, is for the benefit of your friends."

      "Sire, hospitality is one of the noblest virtues of a cavalier, for which one can never do too much, but easily too little."

      The king frowned and looked threateningly before him; the rest of the club looked at Pollnitz with increasing astonishment, surprised at his daring to show the king in this manner his faults and weaknesses.

      Pollnitz alone remained gay and unembarrassed. "Now, as I have attended sufficiently to the pleasure and comfort of my friends, it is time that I should think a little of myself. I therefore beg your highness to name the sum you deem necessary for my yearly expenses for charities and presents for my sweetheart."

      "Your wife is your sweetheart. You intend to be a very tender husband, notwithstanding the two staircases."

      "Sire, it would not become a cavalier to possess a wife and sweetheart in the same person. Your wife represents your family, your sweetheart amuses you. You give your wife name and rank, your sweetheart your love and whole heart. A true cavalier does not love his wife, but he demands that the world shall honor her as the lady that bears his name."

      "Pollnitz, Pollnitz," said the king, shaking his hand threateningly at him, "take care that I never see your cavalier in my house, and no one that is like him; I would have no pity with him, but crush him with my kingly anger!"

      Pollnitz was frightened, and covered himself in a cloud of smoke, that the king might not see his perplexity.

      "Continue," said Frederick William, after a short pause. "I have set aside a certain amount for every single article you have mentioned, but I truly hope you have concluded; and that the demon that dwells in you, and masters you, will make no further suggestions to your luxurious and insane fancies."

      "Yes, your highness; and I beg you will calculate the sum total necessary for these different articles."

      The king calculated, his guests smoked and drank in silence, and Pollnitz listened attentively to the sound of voices, and noise of horses in the court.

      The king suddenly uttered an oath, and brought his fist heavily down on the paper. "As truly as God lives, Pollnitz is right! Four hundred thousand dollars are not sufficient to support a cavalier of his pretensions. The sum here amounts to four hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

      "Your highness confesses that I have demanded nothing superfluous or exaggerated?"

      "Yes, I confess it."

      "Consequently, your highness will be kind enough to pay me five thousand dollars."

      "The devil! How can I understand that?"

      "Your majesty forgets that you promised me one hundred dollars for every thousand over and above the sum of four hundred thousand."

      "Did I say that?" said the king; and as all present confirmed it, he laughed aloud, saying, "I see that none of you understand Pollnitz. That was not my meaning. I did not say I would pay Pollnitz the gold; but for every thousand above his four hundred thousand I would pay a hundred of his oldest debts, and that is quite a different affair. You know well, if I gave him the gold, his creditors would never receive a cent of it. But what I have promised I will do; bring me, to-morrow, a list of your oldest debts, and I will pay five thousand dollars upon them."

      "Your highness, my account is not yet finished. I have only mentioned the most pressing and necessary articles, and much has been forgotten. I must have a forester to chase the poachers from my park, and a night watch to guard my country house, to feed the fish in my pond, to strike upon the water in order to silence the frogs, that my sleep and that of my friends may not be disturbed."

      "Enough, enough of your castles in the air, fool that you are!" cried the king, half angry, half amused. "Seek another sovereign, who is rich enough to provide for your follies."

      "Sire," said Pollnitz, "I will seek nothing elsewhere. I am too happy to have found so noble and gracious a monarch. I only wished to prove to your majesty, and these gentlemen that do me the honor to consider me a spendthrift, that a great fortune can be easily spent without extravagance and folly, and you will now understand that I have given a worthy proof of economy in fixing my yearly income at four hundred thousand dollars, when I could easily dispose of that sum in six months."

      The king laughed, and, raising the beer-pot aloft, commanded the gentlemen to drink to the health of the miser Pollnitz.

      The beer-pots were raised, and were jingling merrily, when suddenly it seemed as if an electric shock had struck them all simultaneously—all with the exception of the king. The six cavaliers placed their beer-pots upon the table, and, rising with breathless haste from their chairs, bowed lowly and humbly.

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

FATHER AND SON.

       Table of Contents

      The king, in speechless amazement, sank back in his chair. He could not yet conceive what spell had taken hold of these gentlemen, that made them rise from their seats in spite of the rules of the Tobacco Club. The king did not see that, behind him, the door had opened, and, in the midst of the smoke that filled the whole room, a young man was visible, whose appearance had produced this astounding impression upon the six cavaliers. And, certainly, there was something exalted and imposing in this youth. A wondrous combination of beauty, nobility of soul, youth, royalty, and melancholy was expressed in this face, whose sharp and marked lines spoke of severe pain and bitter experience, while so fresh and youthful a smile played upon the soft red lip, you could but suppose the heart young, confiding, and impressible. But the eyes were in wonderful contrast to these beautiful lips; they shone like great, mysterious, unfathomable stars—one moment sparkling with youthful superciliousness, the next with the firm, steady, piercing glance of an observing sage. The lofty, somewhat retreating forehead, and the straight, finely-pointed nose, formed a profile indicating commanding elevation of character. And the soul imprisoned behind these temples was powerfully agitated, seeking ever for freedom of thought and expression. It was the eye, the head of a hero; and, had his form corresponded with the giant strength of his glance, he would have been a Titan, and might have crushed the world like a toy in his hand. But his slender, symmetrical, and graceful form was more weak than powerful, more maidenly than heroic.

      You felt, however, that this head might lend strength to the body, and if the Titan could not overcome by physical strength, he could rule and conquer by the commanding power of his genius.[1]

      [1] A French traveller, by the name of Birre, who went from Paris to Berlin to see