“And will you revenge yourself upon me too, Marianne?” asked Gentz, humbly—“upon me who dared reject your hand? But no, you must always be grateful to me for that refusal of mine. Just imagine I had compelled you to stick to your offer: instead of being a princess, you would now be the unhappy wife of the poor military counsellor, Frederick Gentz.”
Marianne laughed. “You are right,” she said, “I am grateful to you for it. But, my friend, you must not and shall not remain the poor military counsellor Gentz.”
“God knows that that is not my intention either,” exclaimed Gentz, laughing. “God has placed a capital in my head, and you may be sure that I shall know how to invest it at a good rate of interest.”
“But here you will obtain no such interest,” said Marianne, eagerly, “let us speak sensibly about that matter. We have paid our tribute to love and friendship; let us now talk about politics I am authorized—and she who addresess you now is no longer Marianne Meier, but the wife of the Austrian ambassador—I am authorized to make an important offer to you. Come, my friend, sit down in the arm-chair here, and let us hold a diplomatic conference.”
“Yes, let us do so,” said Gentz, smiling, and taking the seat she had indicated to him.
“Friend Gentz, what are your hopes for the future?”
“A ponderous question, but I shall try to answer it as briefly as possible. I am in hopes of earning fame, honor, rank, influence, and a brilliant position by my talents.”
“And you believe you can obtain all that here in Prussia?”
“I hope so,” said Gentz, hesitatingly.
“You have addressed a memorial to the young king; you have urged him to give to his subjects prosperity, happiness, honor, and freedom of the press. How long is it since you sent that memorial to him?”