you a little!" said the king.
"Fortunately, we are now at an end. In the next eight days, remember,
you will be engaged!"

"Yes, sire."

"The day of your marriage, I will make your captain a major. You promise
to tell my brother of your engagement, and that it is in accordance with
the warmest wishes of your heart?"

"Yes, sire; and you will banish the gardener forever?"

"I will; but wait--one thing more. Where will you tell my brother of
your engagement, and before what witnesses?"

"At the place and before the witnesses your majesty may select," said
Madame von Kleist.

The king thought a moment. "You will do it in my presence," said he; "I
will let you know the time and place through Pollnitz. We have arranged
our little affairs, madame, and we will descend to the saloon where, I
think, your epouseur is sighing for your presence."

"Let him sigh, sire! With your permission, I should like to retire."

"Go, madame, where you wish. Pollnitz will conduct you to your
carriage."

He offered her his hand, and, with a friendly bow, led her to the door.

"Farewell, madame! I believe we part friends?"

"Sire," she answered, smiling faintly, "I can only say as the soldiers
do, 'I thank you for your gracious punishment!'"

She bowed and left the room hastily, that the king might not see her
tears.

CHAPTER V. A SECRET CAPTAIN.

The king looked long after her in silence; at first with an expression
of deep pity, but this soon gave place to a gay, mocking smile.

"She is not a woman to take sorrow earnestly. When mourning no longer
becomes her, she will lay it aside for the rosy robes of joy. She is a
coquette, nothing more. It is useless to pity her."

He now stepped upon the balcony that overlooked the saloon, and glanced
furtively from behind the curtains upon the gay assembly below.

"Poor, foolish mankind! how wise you might be, if you were not so very
childish--if you did not seek joy and happiness precisely where it is
not to be found! But how is this?" said the king, interrupting himself,
"those two giant forms at the side of the little Armenians are certainly
Barons Kalkreuth and Kaphengst, and that is my brother with them. Poor
Henry! you have made a bad use of your freedom, and must, therefore,
soon lose it. Ah! see how searchingly he turns his head, seeking his
beautiful odalisque! In vain, my brother, in vain! For to-day, at least,
we have made her a repentant Magdalen; to-morrow she will