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.
“Well, speak out. Are you not the person who wrote to me?”
“Yes, sire, but I have forgotten everything now. I thought that I should not be awed by the majesty of a king, but I was mistaken. My lord-marshal should have warned me.”