“Do you hear the King laughing in there with those two French officers? Did ever you hear him so free and merry with us?”
“Never.”
“And did ever you hear him praise any of his own generals as he is always praising the French and Austrian generals?”
“Yes; he praised Winterfeld after he was dead.”
“They have brought a letter from the Prince of Bevern, about his exchange. Do you think the King will lift his finger for Bevern?”
“As well expect water to run up hill. This King of ours is rightly called Great, but he has ever regarded misfortune as a crime. So, therefore, let us always be lucky, and we shall be rewarded.”
The officer passed on, laughing. Just then St. Arnaud, opening the door of their room, respectfully ushered the King out, who was saying:
“Remember, the first clear night we go to the observatory together.” The young aide, standing rigidly at attention, saluted the King, who passed on without seeing him.
Several days went by, that seemed a nightmare for Gavin, and a strange but not unpleasant dream to St. Arnaud. Gavin’s injury, which was really trifling, was aggravated by his impatience. He persisted in trying to walk about his room, in spite of the surgeon’s prohibition, and at the end of the week was but little better off than he had been at the beginning. St. Arnaud had his hands full in trying to take care of him, and every evening he spent with the King. Frederick, to ensure freedom from disturbance, would go to St. Arnaud’s room. A harpsichord had been placed there, and often the sound of the harpsichord and flute would float out. There had been no visits for several nights to the observatory, as the wind and rain storms had been succeeded by heavy snows. St. Arnaud had completely fascinated Frederick, who was always singularly susceptible to the charm of conversation. It was impossible for any one to resist Frederick’s own powers to please when he exerted himself, and St. Arnaud found himself falling more and more under the spell of a great and comprehensive mind, like that of the King of Prussia.
Within ten days, though, in spite of doing many things to retard his recovery, Gavin’s leg grew so much better that St. Arnaud said to the King: