“The King of Prussia!” repeated the Bavarian in bewilderment. “Where is the King of Prussia, then?”
“I am he,” replied the old man, and shut the door.
The colonel was anxiously waiting his orderly’s return, but looked very grave when he laid the thaler on the table beside the flask.
“You fool!” he cried angrily, “did I not tell you not to make any requisition?”
“But I did not, sir,” replied the fellow with a grin. “There was an old man at the tavern who said he was the King of Prussia; he gave me the flask and wished you a quick recovery.”
“What is that!” cried the colonel in great excitement. “From the King of Prussia, did you say?” and he gazed with astonishment at the good monarch’s gift. With awe he lifted the first glass to his thirsty lips, thinking to himself, “This is from the King of Prussia,” but as the last drop disappeared he shouted aloud in a burst of enthusiasm, “Long live King William!”
* * * * * * * *
One day during the siege of Paris, as the King was visiting the outposts, he discovered a fusileer deeply absorbed in a letter, his weapon on the ground at his feet and apparently quite oblivious to his duties. Roused by the sound of hoofs and recognizing his commander-in-chief, he hastily dropped the letter, took up his gun, and presented arms. The King rode up to him and said, smiling:
“A letter from the sweetheart at home, no doubt, my son!”
“No, sire,” replied the terrified soldier; “it is from my mother.”