Fredersdorf watched his tall and graceful figure as it disappeared among the trees with a sad smile.

“He possesses something which is worth more than power or gold; he is young, healthy, full of hope and confidence.  The world belongs to him, while I—­”

The sound of footsteps called his attention again to the allee.

CHAPTER II.

The old courtier.

The figure of a man was seen approaching, but with steps less light and active than young Joseph’s.  As the stranger drew nearer, Fredersdorf’s features expressed great surprise.  When at last he drew up at the window, the secretary burst into a hearty laugh.

“Von Pollnitz! really and truly I do not deceive myself,” cried Fredersdorf, clapping his hands together, and again and again uttering peals of laughter, in which Pollnitz heartily joined.

Then suddenly assuming a grave and dignified manner, Fredersdorf bowed lowly and reverentially.  “Pardon, Baron Pollnitz, pardon,” said he in a tone of mock humility, “that I have dared to welcome you in such an unseemly manner.  I was indeed amazed to see you again; you had taken an eternal leave of the court, we had shed rivers of tears over your irreparable loss, and your unexpected presence completely overpowered me.”

“Mock and jeer at me to your heart’s content, dear Fredersdorf; I will joyfully and lustily unite in your laughter and your sport, as soon as I have recovered from the fearful jolting of the carriage which brought me here.  Be pleased to open the window a little more, and place a chair on the outside, that I may climb in, like an ardent, eager lover.  I have not patience to go round to the castle door.”

Fredersdorf silently obeyed orders, and in a few moments Von Pollnitz was lying comfortably stretched out on a silk divan, in the secretary’s room.

“Ask me no questions, Fredersdorf,” said he, breathing loudly; “leave me awhile to enjoy undisturbed the comfort of your sofa, and do me the favor first to answer me a few questions, before I reply to yours.”

“Demand, baron, and I will answer,” said Fredersdorf, seating himself on a chair near the sofa.

“First of all, who is King of Prussia?  You, or Jordan,—­or General Kothenberg,—­or Chazot,—­or—­speak, man, who is King of Prussia?”

“Frederick the Second, and he alone; and he so entirely, that even his ministers are nothing more than his secretaries, to write at his dictation; and his generals are only subordinate engineers to draw the plans of battle which he has already fully determined upon; his composers are only the copyists of his melodies and his musical conceptions; the architects are carpenters to build according to the plan which he has either drawn or chosen from amongst old Grecian models:  in short, all who serve him are literally servants in this great state machine; they understand his will and obey it, nothing more.”