“Ah!” he cried; “that carries me back to my peaceful days at Ruppin, when my flute was my only company for days together.”
Madame Ziska, seeing that she had found something in which he was interested, went to the harpsichord, and seating herself, sang a French song in a sweet, agreeable voice.
Frederick was charmed.
“Madame, have you any other accomplishments?” he cried. “I have not sunk so far into the savage as I thought, if music can still give me such pleasure.”
Madame Ziska hesitated, a roguish smile playing over her face.
“Did your Majesty say you played the little air I tried just now on the flute?”
“Yes, yes. My sister, the Margravine of Baireuth, first taught it to me, and accompanied me on the harpsichord.”
He seized the flute and began playing, and Madame Ziska, with the greatest coolness in the world, picking up her skirts, executed a pas de seul that was a wonder of skill and grace. The intricacy of her steps was marvellous; she sprung into the air and alighted on the point of her toe, and then spun around with dazzling dexterity; her arms, used with exquisite effect, seemed to have the power of wings to support her; but when, with a final bound and a sinking to the floor, and rising with consummate grace, she was about to conclude her dance, a knock came at the door. Madame Ziska, with lightning quickness, seated herself demurely, while the King, not to be behindhand, put his flute behind him, and called out petulantly:
“Come in.”
An officer entered and, saluting, said: