“For two long weeks has your majesty kept me fasting and longing for this precious soup,” said the duke, reproachfully.
“My broth was not ready,” said the king, gayly; “it was still bubbling in the pot. It is now done, and we will consume it together. Let us be seated, duke.”
If Frederick had turned at this moment, he would have seen the grand chamberlain Pollnitz advancing on tiptoe to the open door, in order to listen to the conversation. But the king was looking earnestly at the ambassador. After a few moments of silence, he turned to the duke.
“Is my soup still too hot for you?” said he, laughingly.
“No, sire,” said the duke, bowing. “But I waited for your majesty to take the first spoonful. Would it not be better to close that door?”
“No,” said the king, hastily; “I left it open, intentionally, so that your eyes, when wearied with the gloom of my republic, could refresh themselves on the glittering costumes of my courtiers.”
“He left it open,” thought the duke, “for these courtiers to hear all that is said. He wishes the whole world to know how he rejected the friendship of France.”
“Well,” said the king, “I will take my spoonful. We will commence without further delay. Duke de Nivernois, you are here because the contract made between France and Prussia is at an end, and because France wishes me to fancy that she is anxious for a renewal of this treaty, and for the friendship of Prussia.”
“France wishes to convince you of this, sire,” said the duke.
“Convince me?” said the king, ironically. “And how?”