As the king read over this description of his appearance once more, he broke into a loud, merry laugh.  He then pushed the letter aside, and took up another piece of paper, and a drawing-pencil.

Silence prevailed now in the cabinet of the king.  Outside was heard the monotonous tread of the sentinel, sometimes the sound of a trumpet, the neighing of a horse, or the order of some officer.  The king paid no attention to all this.  His ear was so accustomed to these noises, that it seemed like perfect silence to him.  He was so buried in his work, that even the unwonted tumult which now arose was unperceived by him; nor did he notice that a carriage drove into the palace-yard, its post-horn sounding loud and merrily.  The generals and courtiers, who were in the antechamber, noticed it all the more, because any thing was welcome to them which broke in upon the prevailing quiet; for so accustomed were they to the varied business of war, that any thing which departed from it was insupportably tedious.  They drew to the window and looked with pleasure on the dusty, dirty travelling carriage, which, with its four panting post-horses, had drawn up at the entrance to the palace, and out of which descended a tall, manly figure, who went in at the palace door.

The gentlemen in the antechamber amused themselves guessing who the stranger who had just arrived could be; and they had all arrived at the unanimous conclusion that it must be the Marquis d’Argens, as the door opened, and the stranger entered.  He asked for the adjutant on duty, and, as the latter was pointed out to him, he stepped toward him with an air of quiet dignity.

“I pray you announce me immediately to his majesty.  Have the kindness to say to him, that I have not come hither on my private affairs, but as a delegate from the city of Berlin, with full powers from the Council and citizens, to request the honor of an audience with the king, and that I am obliged to return as speedily as possible to the capital.”

“Your name, sir?”

“I am the merchant, John Gotzkowsky.”

The serious and proud features of the aristocratic adjutant immediately relaxed, and assumed a more polite and obliging expression.

“Ah!  Gotzkowsky, the rich and magnanimous merchant of Berlin—­the special protege of the king.  I will announce you immediately to his majesty.”  And the adjutant hurried through the halls and entered the boudoir of the king.

In the mean while, the generals drew near Gotzkowsky, who related to them all about the siege of Berlin, and the cruel and relentless conduct of the enemy; pressing him with questions, whether on his journey thither he had encountered or come into the vicinity of any portion of the enemy.

“You will find the king very much out of humor,” said General von Saldern; “he has not left his study to-day, and doubtless he is occupied with very serious plans.”

“Perhaps even with the plan of a battle,” said another of the gentlemen, “for it is said that Lacy has advanced his army, and even that Landon has left Dresden.  A battle is therefore imminent, and the king is evidently drawing up his plan.”