On the following day arrived the king, for whose reception our township had made grand preparations. Festoons of evergreen decorated the roadway from the parsonage to the opposite house, and mother and my sisters were stationed at our gate with an abundance of roses to strew in the king's path.
From the steeple pealed the chimes, heralding his majesty's arrival. He traveled in an open landau, which was drawn by six milk-white Arabian steeds and surrounded by a select escort of young men who were his subjects and served as his guard of honor.
They wore scarfs of the royal colors over breasts and shoulders.
A courtier sat on either side of the king for the purpose of advising him and to direct his movements.
Poor man, he turned his sightless white eyes on us, bowing to the ladies in acknowledgment of their curtesies and roses.
This king was very unlike his royal namesake predecessors, as he was pitied by everyone and not envied or hated. I must confess to having been sorely disappointed with this sight of royalty, for I thought a king must be an extraordinary being, expecting to see a double-header, as kings and queens are pictured on playing cards, the kings holding scepters in their left hands and bearing a ball with their right, but I saluted and shouted as everyone else did, and when my sisters pelted the royal equipage with their roses I shied my cap at his majesty, at which the people who saw this laughed as loudly as they dared in the presence of a king. I expected also to see a military display, but there were no soldiers present, because the king traveled "incognito," which means that it was forbidden to reveal his royal identity. He was supposed to be a plain nobleman merely, "Herr von Beerstein" for instance.
But a king, who is human after all, may wish to enjoy himself as others do and desire to associate occasionally with ordinary people. So "Herr von Beerstein" goes to a beer garden in quest of a pleasing companion who is readily found, for he has money to burn and invests it freely.
An obliging bar-maid introduces him to her lovely cousin and they retire to a lonely seat in the most secluded spot of the garden.
"Herr von Beerstein" now places his heart and purse in the keeping of his gentle companion, who calls directly for "zwei beers."
Now follows a repetition of the old, old legend that yet is always new and ever recurring in the romance of mutual love on sight, two hearts beating as one and in the love that laughs at locksmiths, but as the course of true love seldom runs smooth, now with the maiden's oft repeated calls for "lager" "Herr von Beerstein" grows by stages sentimental, incautious and then so reckless that "presto!" before he is aware of any danger to himself he has stopped Cupid's fatal dart with his royal personal circumference. Maddened with pain he exhibits symptoms of a most violent passion and becomes very aggressive. But the cunning maid appeals to the protecting presence of Fritz, the waiter, with other calls for beer, whispering in the ear of her love-lorn swain: "Nine, mine lieber Herr von Beerstein, ven you has married me once alretty, nicht wahr? Ach vas, den shall you kiss me yet some more, yaw!"