Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia. L. Muhlbach

who announced your majesty's arrival, and I am glad to see that it has been punctually attended to."

      "So these German cooks know already how to prepare a fricassée à la Marengo? Who has taught them this?"

      "Your majesty; your majesty is now the cook and butler for all Germany—everybody has become familiar with your favorite dishes."

      The emperor smiled. Placing a piece of bread on his fork, he dipped it into the dish, and repeated this several times; and when the grand marshal placed before him a silver plate, filled with a portion of the same, he commenced to eat rapidly. Aware of his habit, his attendants had taken care that the pieces of meat were sufficiently small, and the whole dish not too hot. He began to eat the meat with a fork, and the sauce with a spoon, but he seemed to regard both as too inconvenient; for he laid them aside, and, after the fashion of the Turks, used his delicate white hands, adorned with diamond-rings.[13] Scarcely twelve minutes had elapsed when he rose. The grand marshal immediately presented to him a golden basin and a napkin to wash his hands.

      Napoleon's guests had done well in dining beforehand; for, as the servants did not attend to them so quickly as to their master, and as they, moreover, were not able to eat so fast as he, they would assuredly have risen hungry from the table.[14]

      "To horse, gentlemen!" exclaimed Napoleon. "Let us ride over to Sans-souci, and do homage to the manes of the king who was a philosopher and a great general at the same time."

      The streets of Potsdam were deserted as the emperor and his brilliant suite rode through them. All the windows were closed; the citizens were nowhere to be seen; only a crowd of idle boys followed the imperial cavalcade. The soldiers of the grand French army alone greeted the emperor with joyous cheers outside of the city, where they were encamped. Potsdam thought, perhaps, of its king, who had immortalized it, and was sad and ashamed that those whom Frederick the Great had routed in so glorious a manner at Rossbach now made their triumphal entry into his capital.

      Napoleon's brow was gloomy; this silence of the population was disagreeable and oppressive. It seemed to him to be a sign of the hostile spirit of the Prussians; and as he was riding slowly, his head slightly bent forward, along the avenue toward Sans-souci, he muttered: "This is a malicious and infamous trick! The haughty nobility will still oppose me, but I will crush them. They must not succeed, however, in making me angry, but I shall chastise those who have induced the citizens to remain at home, and not to greet me." And, thoughtfully, he rode on toward the country-seat of Frederick the Great.

      No one was at the palace to welcome him but the castellan, a venerable man, who, with a few aged servants in faded liveries, received the all-powerful conqueror at the open folding-doors of the hall leading to the terrace. Napoleon looked at him with a rapid, piercing glance. "You lived in the period of Frederick II.?" he asked hastily.

      "Yes, sire, we were fortunate enough to serve the great king," said the castellan, in faultless, fluent French. "Hence, the honorable task has been intrusted to us to watch over his sacred resting-place, and to protect it from injury."

      "The name of the great king is a sufficient protection for this house," said Napoleon. "My soldiers have a profound respect for true greatness; they will not dare to desecrate this sanctuary. Be my guide, my friend. Let me see the sitting-room of your king!"

      "Of the present king, sire?" asked the castellan.

      Napoleon smiled. "I think there is but one king in Sans-souci," he said, "and that is Frederick II. Conduct me to his sitting-room!" and rapidly crossing the semicircular marble hall, he walked toward the side-door which the castellan opened.

      "Sire," he said, solemnly, "this is the king's sitting-room; it is still furnished precisely as when he lived in it. It has undergone no change whatever."

      Napoleon entered; his marshals followed him. None of them uttered a word; every one seemed involuntarily to tread lightly, as if he feared to disturb the silence reigning in this room, sacred by its great reminiscences. The emperor walked rapidly into the middle of the room; there he paused with folded arms, and his large dark eyes glided slowly from object to object. The marshals moved softly around, and, on contemplating the old-fashioned furniture, their ragged silken covers, the plain desk with the inkstand placed near the window, the large easy-chair, shrouded in a ragged purple blanket, smiled disdainfully and whispered to each other that this was a room entirely unfit for a king, and that one might purchase better and more tasteful furniture of any second-hand dealer in Paris. Napoleon, perhaps, had overheard their words, or at least noticed their whisperings, for he bent an angry glance on them. "Gentlemen," he said, "this is a place which deserves our profound respect. Here lived one who was a greater general than Turenne, and from whose campaigns we all might derive instruction. Alexander the Great himself would have admired Frederick's battle of Leuthen."

      The aged castellan, who was standing at the door, raised his head, and with a kind glance seemed to thank Napoleon for the tribute he had paid to the manes of the heroic dead.

      The emperor's eyes were now fixed on the large clock placed on a gilded pedestal. It was a master-piece of the period of Louis XV., and adorned in the most brilliant roccoco style. The large dial, with the figures of colored enamel, rested in a frame and case of splendidly-wrought gold, and this was surmounted by a portrait of the Emperor Titus, with the inscription, "Diem perdidi."

      "Is that the clock which the king caused to be purchased from the heirs of the Marquise de Pompadour?"

      "Yes, sire, it is. It has always stood in this room, since he purchased it. Frederick the Great prized it very highly, and consulted it exclusively until his death. And it seemed to know that he liked it, for when he closed his eyes, the clock stopped and never went again."

      "Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, quickly, "since the death of Frederick the government of Prussia, it seems, really did not know the time any more. And what about that ragged old easy-chair? Did the king use it, too?"

      "Sire," said the castellan, solemnly, laying stress on every word he uttered—"sire, the great king died in that chair; his head rested on the pillow now lying on the seat, and he was covered with that blanket."

      The emperor rapidly approached; the marshals followed his example and walked toward it on tiptoe. He stood before it; his arms folded, his lips compressed, contemplating it. Behind him stood the marshals, whose indifferent countenances and curious glances contrasted strangely with the pale face of their master. Not far from them, near the door, stood the white-haired castellan; his hands clasped, and his head bowed mournfully on his breast.

      Suddenly the room was filled with light; the sun, which had hitherto been hidden by clouds, burst forth and shone brilliantly; golden beams fell upon the easy-chair of Frederick the Great, and surrounded it, as it were, with a halo.

      "This, then, is the death-bed of the great king," said Napoleon, musingly. "The gods did not permit him to fall on the battle-field. Disease and age vanquished the hero of the Seven Years' War, and he died not amid the triumphs of his soldiers, but solitary and alone! May Providence, in His mercy, preserve us from such a fate!" And turning quickly to the castellan, he asked, "Were you present when the king died?"

      "Yes, sire, I was; for I was his valet de chambre."

      "Tell me the last words he uttered."

      "Sire, he spoke repeatedly, but so inaudibly and rapidly that we did not apprehend him. The last words which we were able to understand were: 'Give me back my soldiers of the Seven Years' War! I am tired of ruling over slaves!'"

      "Strange, strange," murmured Napoleon; "he was tired of ruling over slaves! as though it were possible to rule over free men! Ah, I should like to have known this king, who was such an autocrat, and yet despised slaves! who wielded the sword as skilfully as the pen! to whom the booming of the cannon sounded as melodious as the notes of his flute—who made verses with Voltaire, and won battles with Schwerin and Ziethen! He was able to do every thing, and we have not seen his equal!"

      "Oh, sire," murmured the marshals, "your majesty forgets—"

      "Silence, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, in an angry