“That is to say, he is a good comedian,” said the king. “He knew that you would drive past there, and placed himself expressly to call your attention to him.”
“I beg pardon, sire; Conrector Moritz could not have known that I would take this journey. You will recollect that the courier arrived at midnight with your majesty’s commands, and two hours later I was on the road, and have since travelled day and night. As I met the young man only five miles from this place, he must have set out many days before I thought of leaving Berlin.”
“It is true,” said the king, “it was a false suspicion. You invited him into your carriage, did you not?”
“I did very naturally, sire, as he told me he was going to beg an audience of your majesty. At first he refused decidedly, as he wished to travel on foot, like the pilgrims to the pope at Rome.”
“An original, a truly original genius,” cried the king.
“He is so indeed, and is so called by all his friends.”
“Has he any friends?” asked the king, with an incredulous smile.
“Yes, sire, many warm and sympathizing friends, who are much attached to him, and, on account of his distinguished and brilliant qualities, are willing to indulge his peculiarities.”
“Herzberg, you are charmed, and speak of this man as a young girl in love!”
“Sire, if I were a young girl, I should certainly fall in love with this Moritz, for he is handsome.”