“Four prima donnas at once!” said the king, laughing; “that would be dangerous; we would, perhaps, have the interesting spectacle of seeing them tear out each other’s eyes.  No, no! to enjoy the glories of the sun, there must be no rival suns in the horizon; we will invite but one enchantress, and as you are the host, you have the undoubted right to select her.  Let it be then the Signora Barbarina.” [Footnote:  Rodenbeck:  “Journal of Frederick the Great.”]

“Your majesty graciously permits me to invite the Signora Barbarina?” said Rothenberg, looking the king steadily in the face; a rich blush suffused the cheeks of Frederick.  Suddenly he laughed aloud, and laying his arm around the neck of his friend, he looked in his radiant face with an expression of confidence and love.

“You are a provoking scamp,” said Frederick.  “You understood me from the beginning, and left me hanging, like Absalom, upon the tree.  That was cruel, Rothenberg.”

“Cruel, but well deserved, sire.  Why would you not make known your wishes clearly?  Why leave me to guess them?”

“Why?  My God! it is sometimes so agreeable and convenient to have your wishes guessed.  The murder is out.  You will invite the beautiful Barbarina.  You can also invite another gentleman, an artist, in order that the lovely Italian may not feel so lonely amongst us barbarians.”

“What artist, sire?”

“The painter Pesne; go yourself to invite him.  It might be well for him to bring paper and pencil—­he will assuredly have an irresistible desire to make a sketch of this beautiful nymph.”

“Command him to do so, sire, and then to make a life-size picture from the sketch.”

“Ah! so you wish a portrait of the Barbarina?”

“Yes, sire; but not for myself.”

“For whom, then?”

“To have the pleasure of presenting it to my king.”

“And why?”

“Because I am vain enough to believe that, as my present, the picture would have some value in your eyes,” said Rothenberg, mockingly.  “What cares my king for a portrait of the Barbarina?  Nothing, sans doute.  But when this picture is not only painted by the great Pesne, but is also the gift of a dear, faithful friend, I wager it will be highly appreciated by your majesty, and you will perhaps be gracious enough to hang it in your room.”

“You! you!” said the king, pointing his finger threateningly at Rothenberg, “I am afraid of you.  I believe you listen to and comprehend my most secret thoughts, and form your petition according to my wishes.  I will, like a good-natured, easy fool, grant this request.  Go and invite the Barbarina and the painter Pesne, and commission him to paint a life-size picture of the fair one. [Footnote:  This splendid picture of Barbarina hung for a long time in the king’s cabinet, and is still to be seen in the Royal Palace at Berlin.] Pesne must have several sketches, and I will choose from amongst them.”