“If I agree to that proposition, it amounts to a request that you will invite women to our fete this evening—­will it not?” said the king, still thrumming on the window.

“And with what rapture would I fulfil your wish, but I fear it would be difficult to induce the ladies to come to the house of a young bachelor as I am!”

“Ah, bah!  I have determined during the next winter to give these little suppers very often.  I will have a private table, and women shall be present.”

“Yes, but your majesty is married.”

“They would come if I were a bachelor.  The Countess Carnas, Frau von Brandt, the Kleist, and the Morien, are too witty and too intellectual to be restrained by narrow-minded prejudice.”

“Does your majesty wish that I should invite these ladies?” said the general; “they will come, without doubt, if your majesty commands it.  Shall I invite them?”

The king hesitated a moment to reply.  “Perhaps they would not come willingly,” said he; “you are unmarried, and they might be afraid of their husbands’ anger.”

“I must, then, invite ladies who are not married,” said Rothenberg, whose face was now radiant with delight; “but I do not know one unmarried lady of the higher circles who carries her freedom from prejudice so far as to dare attend a bachelor’s supper.”

“Must we always confine our invitations to the higher circles?” said the king, beating his parade march still more violently upon the window.

Rothenberg watched him with the eye of a sportsman, who sees the wild deer brought to bay.

“If your majesty will condescend to set etiquette aside, I will make a proposition.”

“Etiquette is nonsense and folly, and shall not do the honors by our petits soupers; pleasure only presides.”

“Then I propose that we invite some of the ladies from the theatre—­ is your majesty content?”

“Fully! but which of the ladies?” said the king.

“That is your majesty’s affair,” said Rothenberg, smiling.  “You have selected the gentlemen, will it please you to name the ladies?”

“Well, then,” said the king, hesitating, “what say you to Cochois, Astrea, and the little Petrea?”

“Sire, they will be all most welcome; but I pray you to allow me to add one name to your list, the name of a woman who is more lovely, more gracious, more intellectual, more alluring, than all the prima donnas of the world; who has the power to intoxicate all men, not excepting emperors and kings, and make them her willing slaves.  Dare I name her, sire?”

“Certainly.”

“The Signora Barbarina.”

The king turned his head hastily, and his burning eyes rested questioningly upon the face of Rothenberg, who met his glance with a merry look.

Frederick was silent; and the general, making a profound bow, said solemnly:  “I pray your majesty to allow me to invite Mesdames Cochois, Astrea, and Petrea, also the Signora Barbarina, to our petit souper.”