You don’t know dogs at all, and perhaps you don’t know men.—­Quiet, Biche! leave that piece for Apollo.  I gave it to him, and therefore it belongs to him.  One would suppose you had been learning from men, and in the true spirit of Christian and brotherly love, grudged each other a piece of bread.  Quiet, Biche, and don’t be vexed that I compared you to human beings.  I did not mean you were quite as bad as that.”

And gently stroking and caressing the offended Biche, he rose and seated himself in his velvet-covered fauteuil.  His bright eye turned toward Gotzkowsky, and rested on the package the latter had in his hand.  “What have you there?”

“A plate and a cup,” said Gotzkowsky, seriously—­“the first two pieces from my porcelain factory in Berlin.”

The king now rose from his seat and strode hastily toward Gotzkowsky.  “Give them here.  I want to see what sort of potters’-ware you are going to impose upon me for porcelain.”  With impatient hands he tore off the paper coverings, and so eagerly was he engaged with them, that he did not perceive that Biche and Apollo were already fighting for a scrap of paper which he had thrown directly on Biche’s nose, and which she consequently mistook for a delicate morsel, a prize worth a fight with Apollo.  “Forsooth, it is porcelain!” cried the king, as he drew out the gold-rimmed plate and the beautifully painted cup from their wrappings, and looked at them attentively; and as his eye rested on the painting of the cup, his features assumed a soft and sad expression.  “My house in Rheinsberg,” muttered he softly to himself—­“a greeting from my happy days.”

“In the castle Rheinsberg, I first enjoyed the favor of being presented to your majesty,” said Gotzkowsky.  “Castle Rheinsberg is, therefore, to me a happy recollection, and it was for that reason selected to adorn the proof pieces of my porcelain factory.”

The king fastened a penetrating look upon him.  “You are playing me a trick—­I don’t like tricks, you must know.  Therefore tell me the truth.  Where did you get this porcelain?  It is not from Meissen.  The mark is wanting, and it is whiter and stronger.  Where did you get it?”

“From Berlin, sire.  I promised you, when you were in Meissen, that in future you should procure your porcelain from your own dominions, and I dare not forfeit my word.”

“And so you imitated the Almighty, and created a porcelain factory with the breath of your mouth?”

“Not with the breath of my mouth, but the breath of my money.”

“Tell me about it, and all the particulars,” said the king, still holding the cup in his hand, and looking at it attentively.

And Gotzkowsky related how, on his return from Meissen, he had accidentally made the acquaintance of a young man, who was passing through Berlin on his way to Gotha, the duke having offered to advance him the capital necessary to found a factory for the making of porcelain according to a process of his own invention.  The specimens exhibited convinced Gotzkowsky that this young man was fully acquainted with the secret of porcelain-making, and he had therefore immediately determined to forestall the Duke of Gotha.