Fandor sprang up amazed.
"Does he take me for the King too? That can't be possible. The head of the Secret Service! They must be carrying this joke out to the bitter end. I'm hanged if I can understand it."
"What do you want?"
The man who since his entrance had not taken his eyes off Fandor, now appeared to be considering him with the greatest admiration.
"Ah! Heaven be thanked.... My most cherished desire has come to pass.... Your Majesty has been good enough to allow me the honor of a personal interview."
"He must be mad," thought Fandor.
"Of course I was well acquainted with your august features.... Frederick-Christian II is popular in his kingdom ... his portrait hangs on the walls of private houses as well as public buildings. But your Majesty understands that portraits and the reality are often dissimilar.... Now, although for seventeen years I have belonged to the Secret Service of the Kingdom, I have never before had the honor of meeting his Majesty face to face."
"So, Monsieur Wulf, you think I don't look like my portrait."
"Pardon me, Sire, that is not what I wish to say. The portrait represents your Majesty as being taller and heavier, with a larger moustache and fairer hair."
"In other words," said Fandor, smiling, "my portrait flatters me."