"Ah! Gotzkowsky, the rich and magnanimous merchant of Berlin—the special protégé of the king. I will announce you immediately to his majesty." And the adjutant hurried through the halls and entered the boudoir of the king.
In the mean while, the generals drew near Gotzkowsky, who related to them all about the siege of Berlin, and the cruel and relentless conduct of the enemy; pressing him with questions, whether on his journey thither he had encountered or come into the vicinity of any portion of the enemy.
"You will find the king very much out of humor," said General von Saldern; "he has not left his study to-day, and doubtless he is occupied with very serious plans."
"Perhaps even with the plan of a battle," said another of the gentlemen, "for it is said that Lacy has advanced his army, and even that Landon has left Dresden. A battle is therefore imminent, and the king is evidently drawing up his plan."
At this moment the door of the study was opened, and the adjutant motioned to Gotzkowsky to enter. As the latter was traversing the hall, the generals cast an eager glance through the open door, anxious to see the countenance of the king, and find out from its expression whether this intolerable armistice was to be interrupted by the violent clash of arms.
In the mean time, Gotzkowsky entered the chamber of the king, and the door closed after him. He was now alone in the presence of the monarch, who was still sitting at his writing-table, making rapid strokes with his drawing-pencil on the paper before him.
"He is writing," said Gotzkowsky to himself, "and is perhaps in the act of drawing out the plan of the battle which the generals out there are awaiting with such joyous impatience. Yes, he is writing, and perhaps each stroke of the pen may cost the lives of hundreds of human beings." And he did not venture by a single word or a loud breath to draw attention to his presence. On his entrance, the king had cast on him one of his sharp, penetrating glances, before whose commanding power many a general and many a brave man had quailed, and had then bent his head again over the paper.
Absolute silence prevailed for a while. Suddenly the king interrupted it, and motioned to Gotzkowsky with his hand to draw near. "Just look and see whether that pleases you," said he, in a friendly tone. "You are known as a connoisseur in art, and you have proved to me that you understand painting. Look at that, and tell me whether you like it."
What was it that the king had drawn on the paper? Was it really, as his brave generals wished, the plan of a battle soon to be fought, was it a philosophical treatise, or one of those witty and piquant epistles to which the king treated his friends? None of all these.
"A nosegay!" cried Gotzkowsky, as with unconcealed astonishment he looked now on the paper, now on the king. "Your majesty is drawing a bouquet of flowers, and out there the gentlemen have just told me in confidence that you were busied with a plan of battle, and that the Austrians were approaching."