“Why do you think so?”
“Because it is the course of nature that darkness succeeds light. Look at the prince, gentlemen—the divine light of genius is not stamped upon his brow, as formerly, and care will be taken that it is soon extinguished altogether.”
“Who will take care?”
“Those who are the enemies of light, civilization, and freedom.”
“Who are they?” asked Herr Wolff.
The other smiled, and answered: “Sir, so far as I, in all humility, call myself a scholar, I also owe to the god Apollo obedience, and must answer him, though it may endanger me. I answer, then, the enemies of light and civilization are the disguised Jesuits.”
“Oh, it is easy to perceive that you do not belong to them, or you would not thus characterize them, and—”
A mighty flourish of drums, and shrill blasts of horns and trumpets, drowned the youth’s words, and made all further conversation impossible. The king, followed by a brilliant suite, had just arrived at the parade. The regiments greeted their sovereign with loud blasts of trumpets, and the people shouted their farewell. Frederick lifted lightly his hat, and rode along the ranks of the well-ordered troops. He listened to the shouts with calm, composed manner; the Jupiter-flashes from his great eyes seemed to be spent forever. Mounted upon Caesar, his favorite horse, he looked today more bent, his back more bowed with the burden of years; and it was plainly visible that the hand which held the staff crosswise over the horse’s neck, holding at the same time the bridle, trembled from very weakness.
“That is Frederick,” said Herr Wolff to himself. “That is the hero before whom Europe has trembled; the daring prince who caused the sun to rise upon his country, and awaken the spirits to cheerful life. Oh, how lamentable; how much to be regretted, that a hero, too, can grow feeble and old! Oh, cruel fate, that the noblest spirits embodied in this fragile humanity, and—”
Suddenly he ceased, and looked at the king amazed and with admiration. The old man had become the hero again. The bowed form was erect, the face beamed with energy and conscious power, the eyes flashed with bold daring, strong and sonorous was the voice. The king had turned to his generals, who were drawn up around him in a large circle, saying: “Gentlemen, I come to take leave of you. We shall meet again upon the battle-field, where laurels bloom for the brave. I hope that we may all return, crowned with fresh laurels. Tell my soldiers that I count upon them—that I know they will prove the glory of the Prussian troops anew, and that on the day of battle they will see me at their head.—Farewell!”