“Oh, that the whole world could hear the exalted and high-hearted words of my king!” cried Pollnitz, with well-acted enthusiasm.  “Thrice blessed is that nation which has such a ruler!”

The king looked at him searchingly.  “You flatter me; you want something, of course.”

“No, sire, I swear I come with the purest intentions.”

“Intentions?  You have, then, intentions?”

“Yes, sire, but now that I stand here face to face with you, I feel that my courage fails, and I cannot speak what I intended.”

“Now truly,” said the king, laughing, “the circumstances must indeed be dangerous which deprive Baron Pollnitz of the power of speech.”

“Words, your majesty, are important things.  Once a few words saved me from death; it may be that a few words, spoken this day to your majesty, may bring me into disfavor, and that would be worse than death.”

“What were the words which saved you from death?”

“These, sire:  ‘Va-t-en, noble guerrier!’”

“This took place in France?”

“In Paris, sire.  I was dining in a small hotel in the village of Etampes, near Paris.  A very elegant cavalier sat next me and from time to time, as if accidentally, addressed me in a refined and winning way; he informed himself as to my intentions and circumstances.  I was an inexperienced youth, and the cavalier was adroit in questioning.  This was at the time of the Mississippi speculation of the great financier Law.  I had gained that day, in the Rue Quinquempois, the sum of four hundred thousand francs.  I had this money with me, and after dinner I proposed to go to Versailles.  I was not without apprehension, the streets were unsafe, and Cartouche with his whole band of robbers had for some time taken possession of the environs of Paris, and made them the theatre of his daring deeds.”

“So you received your new friend trustingly?” said the king, laughing heartily.

“Yes, sire, and we had just agreed as to the hour of our departure, when a little maiden appeared under the window of our dining-room and sang in a loud, clear voice, ‘Va-t-en, noble guerrier!’ The strange cavalier rose and stepped to the window to give her a few sous, then went out—­and I saw him no more.”

“And you conclude from this that the words of the song saved your life? you think that the man with whom you were eating was a poisoner?”

“I thought nothing, sire, and forgot the adventure.  A year after, I was standing in the street as Cartouche was being led to execution.  All Paris was abroad to see the famous brigand.  I had a good place, the procession passed immediately by me, and look you, I recognized in the poor sinner now being led to execution, the elegant gentleman of the cabaret at Etampes!  He knew me also and stood still for a moment.  ‘Sir,’ said he, ’I dined with you a year ago.  The words of an old song gave me notice to leave the cabaret immediately.  They announced to me that the pursuers were on my heels; your star was in the ascendant, stranger; had I accompanied you to Versailles, you would have lost your gold and your life.’  Your majesty will now understand that these words, ‘Va-t-en, noble guerrier,’ saved my life.”