The king regarded him with a prolonged and searching glance, the noble, resolute face of whom was pallid with deep grief, but from whose eyes there beamed courageous energy. “Are you the translator of the chapters from Tacitus, which my Minister Herzberg handed me?” asked the king, after a pause.
“Yes, sire,” gently answered Moritz.
“I am told that it is ably done,” continued his majesty, still attentively observing him. “You will acknowledge that it is exceedingly difficult to render the concise style of Tacitus into the prolix, long-winded German?”
“Pardon me, sire,” replied Moritz, whose youthful impetuosity could with difficulty be diverted from the real object of his pilgrimage. “Our language is by no means long-winded, and there is no difficulty in translating Latin authors into German, which equals any living tongue in beauty and sonorousness, and surpasses them all in depth of thought, power, and poesy.”
“Diable!” cried the king, smiling; “you speak like an incarnate German philologist, who confounds the sound of words with profound thought. You will acknowledge that until now our language has not been much known.”
“Sire,” answered Moritz, “Martin Luther, in his translation of the Bible three hundred years since, employed hundreds of beautiful, expressive formations.”
“He is not only a learned man,” said the king to himself, “but he seems an honorable one; and now, as I have proved his scholarly attainments, I must indulge his impatience.” The king’s penetrating glance softened, and his features changed their severe expression. “The Minister von Herzberg informed me that he found you by the roadside, and that you would journey hither on foot.”
“It is true, sire.”
“Why did you travel in that manner?”
“Sire, I desired, as the poor, heavily-laden pilgrims of the middle ages, to make the pilgrimage to the Holy Father at Rome, who was the king of kings. Every step in advance seemed to them to lighten their burden and enhance their happiness. Your majesty is in our day what the pope was held to be in the middle ages, therefore I have wandered as a pilgrim to my king, who has the power to bind and to loose, and from whom I must not only implore personal happiness, but that also of a good and amiable young girl.”