“Well, then, go on—­ask further!”

“Does Frederick show no special interest in any prima donna of the opera, the ballet, or the theatre?”

“No, he cares for none of these things.”

“Is his heart, then, entirely turned to stone?”

“Wholly and entirely.”

“And the queen-mother, has she no influence?”

“My God!  Baron Pollnitz, how long have you been away?  You ask me as many questions as if you had fallen directly from the moon, and knew not even the outward appearance of the court.”

“Dear friend, I have been a whole year away, that is to say, an eternity.  The court is a very slippery place; and if a man does not accustom himself hourly to walk over this glassy parquet, he will surely fall.

“Also there is nothing so uncertain as a court life; that which is true to-day, is to-morrow considered incredible; that which was beautiful yesterday is thrust aside to-day, as hateful to look upon:  that which we despise to-day is to-morrow sought after as a rare and precious gem.

“Oh, I have had my experiences.  I remember, that while I was residing at the court of Saxony, I composed a poem in honor of the Countess Aurora of Konigsmark.  This was by special command of the king; the poem was to be set to music by Hasse, and sung by the Italian singers on the birthday of Aurora.  Well, the Countess Aurora was cast aside before my poem was finished, and the Countess Kozel had taken her place.  I finished my poem, but Amelia, and not Aurora, was my heroine.  Hasse composed the music, and no one who attended the concert, given in honor of the birthday of the Countess Kozel, had an idea that this festal cantata had been originally ordered for Aurora of Konigsmark!

“Once, while I was in Russia, I had an audience from the Empress Elizabeth.  As I approached the castle, leaning on the arm of the Captain Ischerbatow, I observed the guard, who stood before the door, and presented arms.  Well, eight weeks later, this common guard was a general and a prince, and Isoherbatow was compelled to bow before him!

“I saw in Venice a picture of the day of judgment by Tintoretto.  In this picture both Paradise and Hell were portrayed.  I saw in Paradise a lovely woman glowing with youth, beauty, and grace.  She was reclining in a most enchanting attitude, upon a bed of roses, and surrounded by angels.  Below, on the other half of the picture—­ that is to say, in Hell—­I saw the same woman; she had no couch of roses, but was stretched upon a glowing gridiron; no smiling angels surrounded her, but a hideous, grinning devil tore her flesh with red-hot pincers.