The king thought this a good opportunity to pacify Quantz by showing an interest in his pupil. "That is indeed a most unhappy circumstance," said the king, aloud. "Hasten, Pollnitz, to inquire in my name after the health of this gifted young singer. If she is still suffering, take one of my carriages and conduct her yourself to her home, and do not leave her till you can bring me satisfactory intelligence as to her recovery." So saying, the king cast a stolen glance toward the much-dreaded Quantz, whose brow had become somewhat clearer, and his expression less threatening. "We will, perhaps," whispered the king, "escape this time with one day's growling; I think I have softened him." Frederick seated himself, and gave the signal for the concert to proceed; he saw that, with the assistance of the baron, the unconscious songstress had been removed.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE DEATH OF THE OLD TIME.
The music continued, while Pollnitz, filled with secret dread, ordered a court carriage, according to the command of the king, and entered it with the still insensible songstress.
"The king does not know what a fearful commission he has given me," thought Pollnitz, as he drove through the streets with Anna Prickerin, and examined her countenance with terror. "Should she now awake, she would overwhelm me with her rage. She is capable of scratching out my eyes, or even of strangling me."
But his fear was groundless. Anna did not stir; she was still unconscious, as the carriage stopped before the house of her father. No one came to meet them, although Pollnitz ordered the servant to open the door, and the loud ringing of the bell sounded throughout the house. No one appeared as Pollnitz, with the assistance of the servants, lifted the insensible Anna from the carriage and bore her into the house to her own room. As the baron placed her carefully upon the sofa, she made a slight movement and heaved a deep sigh.
"Now the storm will break forth," thought Pollnitz, anxiously, and he ordered the servants to return to the carriage and await his return. He desired no witnesses of the scene which he expected, and in which he had good reason to believe that he would play but a pitiful role.
Anna Prickerin now opened her eyes; her first glance fell upon Pollnitz, who was bending over her with a tender smile.
"What happiness, dearest," he whispered, "that you at last open your eyes! I was dying with anxiety."