Frederick the Great and His Family [306]
the beautiful Louise du Trouffle. I alone could not do this, and as I learned from Lady Elliot that you were here, I dared to follow you, and seek in one glance a compensation for what I have endured this day. Ah, tell me, worshipped lady, must I be forever banished from your presence."
The words of the young man would have seemed insincere and artificial to every unprejudiced ear, but they filled the heart of the vain Louise du Trouffle with joy; they convinced her that she was yet beautiful enough to excite admiration.
"All will be well, Emil," said she; "I have convinced my husband that I am wise as Cato and virtuous as Lucretia. He believes in me, and will cast all slander from his door. Remain here, and let me return alone to the saloon. Au revoir, man ami."
She threw him a kiss from the tips of her rosy fingers, and hastened away.
CHAPTER IV.
THE KING IN SANS-SOUCI.
The ceremonies and festivities of the reception were ended. The king could at length indulge himself in that quiet and repose which he had so long vainly desired. At length, he who had lived so many years to perform the duties of a king, who had in reality lived for his country, might after so many cares and sorrows seek repose. The warrior and hero might once more become the philosopher; might once more enjoy with his friends the pleasure of science and art.
The king entered the carriage which was to bear him to Sans-Souci with a beaming countenance--his deeply-loved Sans-Souci, which had seemed a golden dream to him during the dreary years of the war--a bright goal before him, of which it consoled and strengthened him even to think. Now he would again behold it; now he would again enter those beautiful rooms, and the past would once more become a reality.
He seemed enraptured with the road which led him to Sans-Souci. Every tree, every stone appeared to welcome him, and when the palace became visible, he was entirely overcome by his emotions, and sank back in his carriage with closed eyes.
The Marquis d'Argens, however, the only one who had been allowed to accompany the king in this drive, sprang from his seat, and waving his hat in greeting, exclaimed:
"I greet you, Sans-Souci, you temple of wisdom and happiness! Open wide your portals, for your lord is returning to you. Let your walls resound as did Memnon's pillar, when the sun's rays first greeted it, after a long night. Your night is passed, Sans-Souci; you will be again warmed by the sunbeams from your master's eyes!"
The king smilingly drew his enthusiastic friend back to his seat.
"You are, and always will be a child--an overgrown child."
"Sire," said D'Argens, "that is because I am pious. It is written, 'If you do not become as little children you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven!' Now, Sans-Souci is my kingdom! I have become as the children, that I might be received at the side of my king, and begin once more the days of happiness."
The king gently shook his head. "Oh, I fear, my friend, that the days of happiness will not recommence; the sun which once illumined Sans-Souci has set. Our lips have forgotten how to smile, and joy is dead in our hearts. How many illusions, how many hopes and wishes I still indulged, when I last descended the steps of Sans-Souci; how poor, and weak, and depressed I shall feel in ascending them!"
"What? your majesty poor! You who return so rich in fame, crowned with imperishable laurels?"
"Ah, marquis, these laurels are bathed in blood, and paid for bitterly and painfully with the lives of many thousands of my subjects. The wounds are still gaping which my land received during the war, and they will require long years to heal. Do not speak to me of my laurels; fame is but cold and sorrowful food! In order to prize fame, one should lay great weight on the judgment of men; I have lost all faith in them. Too many bitter experiences have at length destroyed my faith and confidence. I can no longer love mankind, for I have ever found them small, miserable, and crafty. Those for whom I have done most have betrayed
The words of the young man would have seemed insincere and artificial to every unprejudiced ear, but they filled the heart of the vain Louise du Trouffle with joy; they convinced her that she was yet beautiful enough to excite admiration.
"All will be well, Emil," said she; "I have convinced my husband that I am wise as Cato and virtuous as Lucretia. He believes in me, and will cast all slander from his door. Remain here, and let me return alone to the saloon. Au revoir, man ami."
She threw him a kiss from the tips of her rosy fingers, and hastened away.
CHAPTER IV.
THE KING IN SANS-SOUCI.
The ceremonies and festivities of the reception were ended. The king could at length indulge himself in that quiet and repose which he had so long vainly desired. At length, he who had lived so many years to perform the duties of a king, who had in reality lived for his country, might after so many cares and sorrows seek repose. The warrior and hero might once more become the philosopher; might once more enjoy with his friends the pleasure of science and art.
The king entered the carriage which was to bear him to Sans-Souci with a beaming countenance--his deeply-loved Sans-Souci, which had seemed a golden dream to him during the dreary years of the war--a bright goal before him, of which it consoled and strengthened him even to think. Now he would again behold it; now he would again enter those beautiful rooms, and the past would once more become a reality.
He seemed enraptured with the road which led him to Sans-Souci. Every tree, every stone appeared to welcome him, and when the palace became visible, he was entirely overcome by his emotions, and sank back in his carriage with closed eyes.
The Marquis d'Argens, however, the only one who had been allowed to accompany the king in this drive, sprang from his seat, and waving his hat in greeting, exclaimed:
"I greet you, Sans-Souci, you temple of wisdom and happiness! Open wide your portals, for your lord is returning to you. Let your walls resound as did Memnon's pillar, when the sun's rays first greeted it, after a long night. Your night is passed, Sans-Souci; you will be again warmed by the sunbeams from your master's eyes!"
The king smilingly drew his enthusiastic friend back to his seat.
"You are, and always will be a child--an overgrown child."
"Sire," said D'Argens, "that is because I am pious. It is written, 'If you do not become as little children you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven!' Now, Sans-Souci is my kingdom! I have become as the children, that I might be received at the side of my king, and begin once more the days of happiness."
The king gently shook his head. "Oh, I fear, my friend, that the days of happiness will not recommence; the sun which once illumined Sans-Souci has set. Our lips have forgotten how to smile, and joy is dead in our hearts. How many illusions, how many hopes and wishes I still indulged, when I last descended the steps of Sans-Souci; how poor, and weak, and depressed I shall feel in ascending them!"
"What? your majesty poor! You who return so rich in fame, crowned with imperishable laurels?"
"Ah, marquis, these laurels are bathed in blood, and paid for bitterly and painfully with the lives of many thousands of my subjects. The wounds are still gaping which my land received during the war, and they will require long years to heal. Do not speak to me of my laurels; fame is but cold and sorrowful food! In order to prize fame, one should lay great weight on the judgment of men; I have lost all faith in them. Too many bitter experiences have at length destroyed my faith and confidence. I can no longer love mankind, for I have ever found them small, miserable, and crafty. Those for whom I have done most have betrayed