“What sum did they pay your father, do you know?” asked the sovereign.
“Two hundred florins,” said August, with a great sigh of shame. “It was so much money, and he is so poor, and there are so many of us.”
The king turned to his gentlemen-in-waiting. “Did these dealers of Munich come with the stove?”
He was answered in the affirmative. He desired them to be sought for and brought before him. As one of his chamberlains hastened on the errand, the monarch looked at August with compassion.
“You are very pale, little fellow: when did you eat last?”
“I had some bread and sausage with me; yesterday afternoon I finished it.”
“You would like to eat now?”
“If I might have a little water I would be glad; my throat is very dry.”
The king had water and wine brought for him, and cake also; but August, though he drank eagerly, could not swallow anything. His mind was in too great a tumult.
“May I stay with Hirschvogel?—may I stay?” he said, with feverish agitation.