“Sixteen years, your majesty,” cried the young man, eagerly; “in four weeks I shall be sixteen years old.”
“Ah, sixteen already!” replied Frederick, smiling. “Then you are almost a man, and must be treated with due consideration. Mon prince, voulez-vous avoir la bonté de me donner votre bras?”[17]
“Sire, et mon roi,” replied the prince, quickly, “vous me daignez d’un grand honneur, et je vous suis très reconnaissant!”[18] ] And after bowing deeply he offered his arm to the king.
“Just see how well he speaks French already!” said the king. “We will remain out here on the terrace for a few moments. The warm sunshine does an old man good! Lead me, my prince.”
He pointed with his crutch to the arm-chair which stood near the open door of the saloon, and walked slowly across the terrace, supported by Frederick William’s arm.
“Here,” said he, as he sank slowly into the chair, breathing heavily, “here I will repose once more in the warm, bright sunshine before I enter the dark house.”
He looked slowly around at the terraces and trees, and then his gaze fastened on the young prince, who stood near him with a stiff and formal military bearing.
“Lieutenant, forget for a few moments that you are before the king. You are at liberty to dispense with military etiquette. And now give me your hand, my son, and let your old uncle offer you a right hearty welcome.”
The prince pressed the hand which he extended respectfully to his lips.
“Seat yourself,” said the king, pointing to a stool which stood near his chair. And, when the prince had done as he bade him, he looked long and earnestly into his fresh, open face.