Bischofswerder bowed profoundly. “All that the king’s consecrating hand touches becomes his property, as I am his with all that is mine!”
“I thank you, colonel, I thank you. Ascend the step to honor which this day offers, and let it be my care that the prophecy for the ensuing day be also fulfilled. And now,” continued the king, turning to Wöllner, who had stood with folded hands, his head bowed down, during this conversation; “and now, as to you, Councillor Wöllner, you are also deserving of thanks and reward.”
“Far more deserving than I, poor unworthy man,” exclaimed Bischofswerder; “for Chrysophorus, the effulgent, belongs to the chosen, and is the favorite of the Invisible. If your majesty empties the plenteous horn of your favor on the head of Chrysophorus, no drop will be lost, but all will fall on good and fertile soil.”
The king greeted the noble, disinterested friend with a kindly smile, and then laid his hand gently on Wöllner’s shoulder.
“Thus I will sustain myself on you, Wöllner, and as I now lay my right hand on you, so will I make you my right hand, as I make Bischofswerder my head, to think for me. You too shall be my head and my hand.”
“But your heart, sire?” asked Wöllner, in his earnest and solemn voice. “Your heart you must be yourself, and no other human being must be your heart but the king himself.”
Frederick William smiled. “My heart, that am I—I the king, but also I the man; and the head and hand which act for me, must also permit the heart to act, as it will and can! Councillor Wöllner, has the Invisible announced nothing to you? have you alone passed the night in quiet slumber?”
“Your majesty,” replied Wöllner, with an air of self-reproach, “I have received no message from the Invisible; I must honor the truth, and acknowledge that I have rarely enjoyed such peaceful and unbroken slumber as in the past night.”
“He slept the sleep of the just,” said Bischofswerder, “and the spirits kept watch at the door of our Chrysophorus.”