“No, sire,” said he, stealing a glance toward the door, which at this moment was lightly opened.  “I have another novelty to announce, but I do not know whether it will be acceptable to your majesty.  Baron von Pollnitz—­”

“Has sent us the announcement of his marriage?”

“No, sire, he is not married.”

At this moment, the Signora Biche began to bay light notes of welcome, and raised herself up from her comfortable position on the sofa.  The king did not remark her, however; he was wholly occupied with Fredersdorf.

“How! do you say he is not married?”

“No, he has not married,” said a plaintive voice from behind the door, “and he prays your majesty, of your great grace, to allow him to dedicate his whole life to his royal master, forgetting all other men and women.”  The king turned and saw his former master of ceremonies kneeling before the door, and his clasped hands stretched out imploringly before him.

Frederick gave a hearty peal of laughter, while Biche, raising herself with a joyful bark, sprang toward the kneeling penitent, and capered playfully about him; she appeared indeed to be licking the hand in which the sagacious baron held loosely a large piece of her favorite chocolate.  At first, the king laughed heartily; then, as he remarked how tenderly Biche licked the hand of the baron, he shook his head thoughtfully.  “I have had a false confidence in the true instinct of my little Biche; she seems, indeed, to welcome Pollnitz joyfully; while a sharp bite in his calf is the only reception which his wicked and faithless heart deserves.”

“Happily, sire, my heart is not lodged in my calves,” said Pollnitz.  “The wise Biche knows that the heart of Pollnitz is always in the same place, and that love to my king and master has alone brought me back to Berlin.”

“Nonsense!  A Pollnitz can feel no other love than that which he cherishes for his own worthy person, and the purses of all others.  Let him explain now, quickly and without circumlocution, if he really wishes my pardon, why, after going to Nurnberg to marry a bag of gold, containing a few millions, he has now returned to Berlin.”

“Sire, without circumlocution, the bag of gold would not open for me, and would not scatter its treasures according to my necessities and desires.”

“Ah!  I comprehend.  The beautiful Nurnberger had heard of your rare talent for scattering gold, and thought it wiser to lose a baron of the realm than to lose her millions.”

“Yes, that’s about it, sire.”

“I begin to have a great respect for the wisdom of this woman,” said Frederick, laughing.  “I think she has a more reliable instinct than my poor Biche, who, I see, still licks your hands.”

“Oh, Biche knows me better than any man,” said Pollnitz, tenderly patting the greyhound.  “Biche knows that my heart is filled with but one love—­love to my king and master.  She knows that I have returned to lay myself as she does, in all humility and self-abandonment, at the feet of my royal Frederick, to receive either kicks or favors, as he may see fit to bestow them; to be equally grateful for the bones he may throw to me in his pity, as for the costly viands he may grant in the magnanimity of his great soul.”