CHAPTER XI. THE YOUNG KING.
The king rapidly walked through the rooms and across the hall, separating his own apartments from those of the queen. He had scarcely entered his cabinet, when he opened the door of the ante-room, and exclaimed:
“Pray, come in, my dear Kockeritz.”
A corpulent little gentleman, about fifty years of age, with a kind, good-natured face, small, vivacious eyes, denoting an excellent heart, but little ability, and large, broad lips, which never perhaps had uttered profound truths, but assuredly many pleasant jests, immediately appeared on the threshold.
While he was bowing respectfully, the king extended his hand to him.
“You have received my letter, my friend?” he asked.
“Yes, your majesty. I received it yesterday, and I have been studying it all night.”
“And what are you going to reply to me?” asked the king, quickly. “Are you ready to accept the position I have tendered to you? Will you become my conscientious and impartial adviser—my true and devoted friend?”
“Your majesty,” said the lieutenant-colonel, sighing, “I am afraid your majesty has too good an opinion of my abilities. When I read your truly sublime letter, my heart shuddered, and I said to myself, ‘The king is mistaken about you. To fill the position he is offering to you, he needs a man of the highest ability and wisdom. The king has confounded your heart with your head.’ Yes, your majesty, my heart is in the right place; it is brave, bold, and faithful, but my head lacks wisdom and knowledge. I am not a learned man, your majesty.”