“Your majesty,” murmured Herzberg, his voice tremulous with emotion, “your majesty rewards me beyond my deserts. I have done nothing but my duty, and—”
“Happy is that king,” exclaimed Frederick William, interrupting him, “happy is that king who is surrounded by servants who take no credit to themselves for the good and great which they accomplish, considering that they have done no more than their duty. The obligation to acknowledge their services and show his gratitude, is on this account all the more incumbent upon him; there are very few people on earth who can say of themselves, in this exalted sense, that they have done their duty. But I am a very happy king; I have two such friends at my side on the very threshold of my career. You, my dear count, I have already rewarded for your services. Your patent as count shall be made out, and the insignia of the highest order of the Black Eagle presented you. You will still continue to administer the affairs of your foreign bureau. And now, you need rest, my dear count; I know that you have watched a great deal in the last few nights. Au revoir! ”
After taking a last lingering look at the royal corpse, Herzberg retired; and King Frederick William turned to the valet, Rietz, who had stood, with his head bowed down, in order to hide the curiosity, and the indifference to the solemnity of the occasion, which were depicted in his countenance.
“And now, my dear Rietz,” said the king, extending his hand to the valet, “now the time has at last come when I can reward you for your faithful services! I appoint you treasurer of my household, and keeper of my strong-box!”[22]
“Ah, your majesty, my beloved king,” sobbed Rietz, as he pressed Frederick William’s hand to his thick, swollen lips, “such grace, such favor, I have not deserved. I thank your majesty, however, from the bottom of my heart, and you shall always find in me a true and faithful servant! Oh, what will my wife say, and how happy she will be, over the new honor you have conferred upon me!”
The king withdrew his hand with a slight shudder, and looked almost timidly in the direction of the corpse, which lay there so grand and still. He did not see the quiet, stealthy glance which the treasurer fastened on his countenance.
If the corpse of the great Frederick had suddenly come to life again—if those closed eyes had opened once more—how withering a glance would they have bestowed upon the wanton valet! But even the corpse of a king hears no more, and the closed eyes open not again!
“Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!”
The king stepped slowly back, but his gaze still rested on the countenance of the dead. Though closed, those eyes seemed to see into his heart.
“Rietz, send for the sculptor, in Potsdam, in order that a cast of the king’s face may be taken.”