A few minutes later the secretary entered, but stood quietly at the door till the king had finished his allegro and laid aside his flute.
"Good-morning," said the king, and he looked up at his favorite with so sharp and piercing a glance that Fredersdorf involuntarily trembled, and cast his eyes to the ground. "You must have been long wide awake, you answer the bell so quickly."
"Yes, your majesty, I have been long awake. I am happy, for I have good news to bring you."
"Well, what is it?" said the king smiling. "Has my god-mother, the Empress Maria Theresa, voluntarily surrendered to the Emperor Charles VII.? Have France and England become reconciled? or—and that seems to me the most probable—has my private secretary mastered the mystery of gold-making, after which he has so long striven, and for which he so willingly offers up the most costly and solemn sacrifices?" The king laid so peculiar an expression upon the word SACRIFICE that Fredersdorf wondered if he had not listened to his conversation with Joseph, and learned the strange sacrifice which they now proposed to offer up to the devil's shrine.
"Well, tell your news quickly," said the king. "You see that I am torturing myself with the most wild and incredible suppositions."
"Sire, the Barbarina reached Berlin last night."
"Truly," said the king, indifferently, "so we have at last ravished her from Venice, and Lord Stuart McKenzie."
"Not exactly so, your highness. Lord Stuart McKenzie arrived in
Berlin this morning."
Frederick frowned. "This is also, as it appears, a case of true love, and may end in a silly marriage. I am not pleased when men or women in my service entertain serious thoughts of love or marriage; it occupies their thoughts and interferes with the performance of their duty."
"Your majesty judges severely," murmured Fredersdorf, who knew full well that this remark was intended for his special benefit.