He forgot entirely that the summons was for his majesty’s lunch, and all that he had to do was to open the door to the adjoining room, where it stood already prepared.
Frederick waited a moment, but the footman still stood irresolute, when his majesty indicated to him to approach.
He approached, staggering under the puzzling glance of his master.
“Oh! I see what it is,” said Frederick, shrugging his shoulders; “you are drunk again, as you often are, and—”
“Your majesty,” cried Schultz, amazed, “I drunk!”
“Silence!—will you be bold enough to reason with me? I say that you are drunk, and I want no drunken footmen. They must be well-behaved, sober fellows, who keep their ears open and their mouths shut—who are neither drunkards nor gossips, and do not take for truth what they have experienced in their drunken fits. I do not want such fellows as you are at all; you are only fit food for cannon, and for that you shall serve. Go to General Alvensleben, and present yourself to enter the guards. You are lucky to go to the field at once; to-morrow you will set off. Say to the general that I sent you, and that you are to enter as a common soldier.”
“But, your majesty, I do not know what I have done,” cried Schultz, whiningly. “I really am not drunk. I—”
“Silence!” thundered the king. “Do as I command you! Go to General Alvensleben, and present yourself to enter the guards at once. Away with you! I do not need drunken, gossiping footmen in my service. Away with you!”
The footman slunk slowly away, his head hanging down, with difficulty restraining the tears which stood in large drops in his eyes.
The king followed him with his glance, which softened and grew gentler from sympathy. “I pity him, the poor fellow! but I must teach him a lesson. I want no gossips around me. He need only wear the uniform two weeks or so, that will bring him to reason. Then I will pardon him, and receive him into my service again. He is a good-natured fellow, and would not betray any one as Kretzschmar betrayed him.”