“You must not, for I do not wish you to do so,” cried Frederick, with anger-flashing eyes.  “I will institute reprisals.  The imperial court has refused the payment of the Bamberg and Wurzburg bonds.”

“And your majesty considers that proceeding highly dishonest and unjust,” interrupted Gotzkowsky; “and while you wish to punish the empire for its breach of faith, you punish doubly the town of Berlin by depriving her of the last thing that remained to her in her day of need and misfortune—­her honorable name.  You cannot be in earnest, sire?  Punish, if you choose, the imperial judge, but do not make Berlin the dishonored Jack Ketch to carry out your sentence.”

“But are you so anxious to get rid of your money?  What is the amount that you still owe?”

“A million and a half, sire.”

The king stepped back and looked at Gotzkowsky with astonishment.  “And the people of Berlin insist upon paying it?”

“Yes, because their word is pledged.”

The king shook his head thoughtfully.  “Hark ye,” said he, “you seem to me to be a dangerous agitator, who wishes to turn my peaceful citizens of Berlin into true children of Haman.  Some weeks ago, after the unfortunate fight of Kunnersdorf, when I sent an express courier to Berlin and ordered the Town Council to advise the rich and well-to-do to retire from the city with their portable property, my recommendation was not followed:  you yourself excited the Council to disobedience.  In your self-willed obstinacy you had the impudent assurance to make your way through a country infested by the enemy; and if my colonel, Von Prittwitz, had not found you in those woods, and brought you to me in the village, your obstinate head would have adorned the lance of some Cossack or other.  And what did you come for but to assure me that the well-to-do citizens of Berlin would prefer staying at home, and did not wish to run away?  Yes, truly you are a queer diplomatist, and rush headlong into danger and trouble only to assure your king that his citizens will not obey him!”

The king had spoken with apparent displeasure, but around his lips there played a slight smile, and his large blue eyes were directed toward Gotzkowsky with an expression of indescribable kindness.

“In this case they do not wish to obey your majesty, because they wish to remain worthy of the name of your majesty’s citizens and subjects.”

The king paced up and down several times, with folded arms, and then stopped before Gotzkowsky, looking steadily in his eyes.  “Now tell me, how did you manage to make the Berliners so obstinate and so lavish of their means?”

Gotzkowsky smiled.  “Please your majesty, the Berliners prize their honor above their life.”

The king shook his head impatiently.  “You may tell that to some one else.  Tell me, how did you bring my Berliners up to that?  But the truth—­mind, you tell me the truth.”