CHAPTER XVI.

The traitor.

Baron von Pollnitz was ill at ease; for three days he had sought relief diligently, but had no alleviation.  He found himself in the antediluvian condition of our great forefather Adam, while he loitered away his time in Paradise.  Like Adam, Pollnitz had no gold.  Our good baron found this by no means a happy state, and his heart was full of discontent and apprehension; he felt that he was, indeed, unblessed.  What would become of him if the king should not be merciful, should not take pity upon his necessities, which he had to-day made known to him in a most touching and eloquent letter.  Up to this time he had been waiting in vain for an answer.  What should he do if the king should be hard-hearted and cruel?  But no, that was impossible; he must consider it a sacred duty to take care of the old and faithful servant of his house, who had been the favored companion of two of Prussia’s kings.  Pollnitz considered that he belonged to the royal family; he was an adopted member; they could not think slightingly of him, or set him aside.

He had exhausted his means, he had borrowed from Jew and Christian; he had, by his gay narratives and powers of persuasion, drawn large sums of gold from the rich burghers; all his friends held his dishonored drafts; even his own servant had allowed himself to be made a fool of, and had loaned him the savings of many years; and this sum scarcely sufficed to maintain the noble, dissipated, and great-hearted cavalier a few weeks.

Alas! what sacrifices had he not already made to this insane passion for spending money; what humiliation had he not suffered—­and all in vain!  In vain had he changed his religion three times; he had condescended so far as to pay court to a merchant’s daughter; he had even wished to wed the daughter of a tailor, and she had rejected him.

“And yet,” said he, as he thought over his past life, “every thing might have gone well, but for this formidable stratagem of the king; this harsh prohibition and penalty as to relieving my necessities which has been trumpeted through the streets—­that ruined me; that gave me fearful trouble and torment.  That was refined cruelty for which I will one day revenge myself, unless Frederick makes amends.  Ha! there comes a royal messenger.  He stops at my door.  God be thanked!  The king answers my letter; that is to say, the king sends me money.”

Pollnitz could scarcely restrain himself from rushing out to receive the messenger; his dignity, perhaps, would not have sufficed to hold him back, but the thought of the considerable douceur he would be expected to pay moderated his impatience.  At last his servant came and handed him a letter.

“I hope,” said the baron, gravely, “I hope you rewarded the king’s messenger handsomely?”

“No, sir, I gave him nothing.”

“Nothing!” cried he angrily.  “And you dare to say this to my face! you do not tremble lest I dismiss you instantly from my service? you, and such as you are, cast shame upon our race!  I, a baron of the realm, and grand master of ceremonies, allow a royal messenger who brings me a letter to go from my door unrewarded!  Ass, if you had no money, why did you not come to me? why did you not call upon me for several ducats?”