“Now the important moment has come,” thought Pollnitz. “Now, if I am adroit, I believe I can obtain the payment of my debts.”
“Well, then, your highness,” said Pollnitz, in answer to the prince, “I will tell you the truth, even should I incur your displeasure. I fear, my prince, you are regarded as a rejected lover, and Madame du Trouffle has succeeded in throwing a holy lustre around her beautiful brow. It is said that she refused your dishonorable proposals, and preferred being the virtuous wife of a major, to becoming the mistress of a prince.”
“Go on,” said the prince, hastily, as Pollnitz ceased, and looked searchingly at him. “What do they say of me?”
“That you are in despair, and that you have retired to your chambers to weep and mourn over your lost love.”
“Ah, they say that, do they?” cried the prince, with flashing eyes and darkened brow; “well, I will show this credulous world that they are mistaken. Is the king in Sans-Souci?”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Well, go to him, and announce my visit; I will follow you on foot.”
“We have won the day,” cried Pollnitz, as he approached the king; “the prince desires to make you a visit. He will be here immediately.”
“Do you know what my brother wishes of me?” asked the king.
“I do not know, but I suspect, sire. I think he wishes to marry, in order to pique his faithless sweetheart.”