“Yes, sire, but I did not imitate him,” said Gellert, ingenuously, “I am an original.”
The king nodded gayly; Gellert’s quick frankness pleased him.
“Good,” he said, “you are an excellent poet; but why do you stand alone?”
Gellert shrugged his shoulders slightly.
“Your majesty is prejudiced against the Germans.”
“No, I cannot admit that,” said the king, quickly.
“At least against German writers,” replied Gellert.
“Yes, that is true; I cannot deny that. Why have we no good writers in Germany?”
“We have them, sire,” said Gellert, with noble pride. “We boast a Maskow, a Kramer—who has set Bossuet aside.”
“How!” cried the king, astonished; “Bossuet? Ah, sir, how is it possible for a German to set Bossuet aside?”