“Burgsdorf,” he said, pointing to his signature, “do you know what I have written there?”

“No, your highness, that I do not.  I am not stupid enough to give myself much trouble deciphering the scratches of a pen.  But I know and have read what is written upon your face, sir.”

“Well, and what stands written there, old friend?”

“Most gracious sir, it is written there that you suffer now, but will be revenged hereafter.  It says that you now in a submissive manner offer your hand to the insolent, cursed Pole, but that on some future day you will shake your fist in his face, and amply requite his haughty arrogance.”

“Well done; you have read correctly,” exclaimed the Elector, laughing.  “You have divined my most secret thoughts.”

“And may a good God only deign to grant me this one favor, that I may live long enough to see your thoughts put in action, gracious sir!  May he preserve me from gout and paralysis, that I too, may have a hand in the deeds of that blessed day, and strike a few well-aimed blows.”

“Well, it is to hoped that not many years will elapse ere the dawning of that day,” said the Elector.  “I shall not know ease or rest until it is here, and I can have my revenge.  Let us think of this, old friend, and be meekly patient and wear a placid mien on our way to Warsaw, to humble ourselves.  You know a man must sometimes swallow bitter medicine when he is sick and faint, and the bitterest will appear sweet if he drinks it in order to imbibe new life and health.  My poor country is, indeed, sick unto death, and therefore I go to Warsaw to swallow a bitter pill for the health and salvation of my land.  But we go on crutches, two hard crutches.”

“I know the names of those crutches, your highness,” said Burgsdorf.  “One crutch is called ‘Imperial,’ the other ‘Polish.’”

“You have guessed correctly, old friend,” answered the Elector.  “But some day we will throw aside the crutches on which we must now lean, and Prussia shall be the sword which we shall unsheathe and draw against all our foes.  I must now submit to having a lord over me, but the time will come when the Prussian black eagle will feel itself strong enough to do battle against the white eagle of Poland, and soar aloft on bold, strong wing.  Once more I tell you, old friend, think of that, if we do go now to Warsaw!  You are to accompany me, and when you ride into Warsaw at the head of my soldiers, as their colonel and chief, show a smiling visage to the fair Polish women and enchant them by your grace.”

“I will so enchant them, your highness,” laughed Burgsdorf, “that for rapture at sight of me they will not look at you, and not even make an attempt to win your heart.”

“My heart, Burgsdorf?” said the Elector.  “I have no heart, at least no personal one.  My thoughts and feelings belong only to my country, my ambition, and my future.  I now go to Warsaw and bow my head in the dust, that at a later period I may lift it up the more proudly and independently.”