“But will he reply?”
“Undoubtedly; he replies to everybody. He will tell you when and where he will see you. His Majesty is now at Sans-Souci. I am curious to know the nature of your interview with the monarch who, as you can see, is not afraid of being imposed on.”
When I got home I wrote a plain but respectful letter to the king, asking where and at what time I could introduce myself to him.
In two days I received a letter signed “Frederick,” in which the receipt of my letter was acknowledged, and I was told that I should find his majesty in the garden of Sans-Souci at four o’clock.
As may be imagined I was punctual to my appointment. I was at Sans-Souci at three, clad in a simple black dress. When I got into the court-yard there was not so much as a sentinel to stop me, so I went on mounted a stair, and opened a door in front of me. I found myself in a picture-gallery, and the curator came up to me and offered to shew me over it.
“I have not come to admire these masterpieces,” I replied, “but to see the king, who informed me in writing that I should find him in the garden.”
“He is now at a concert playing the flute; he does so every day after dinner. Did he name any time?”
“Yes, four o’clock, but he will have forgotten that.”
“The king never forgets anything; he will keep the appointment, and you will do well to go into the garden and await him.”
I had been in the garden for some minutes when I saw him appear, followed by his reader and a pretty spaniel. As soon as he saw me he accosted me, taking off his old hat, and pronouncing my name. Then he asked in a terrible voice what I wanted of him. This greeting surprised me, and my voice stuck in my throat.