ain quietly in his beloved bed, and from there write me a touching
epistle concerning the bonds of friendship. I know that when feeling
does not flow from the hearts of men, it flows eloquently from ink as
a pitiful compensation. But," he continued after a pause, "this is all
folly! Solitude makes a dreamer of me--I am sighing for my friends as a
lover sighs for his sweetheart! Am I then so entirely alone? Have I not
my books? Come, Lucretius, thou friend in good and evil days; thou sage,
thou who hast never left me without counsel and consolation! Come and
cheer thy pupil--teach him how to laugh at this pitiful world as it
deserves!"

Taking Lucretius from the table, and stretching himself upon the sofa,
he commenced reading. Deep stillness surrounded him. Bells were ringing
in the distance in honor of the royal birthday. The Breslauers, who
had so shortly before joyfully welcomed the conquering Austrians, now
desired to convince the King of Prussia that they were his zealous
subjects. The evening of the kingly birthday they wished to show the joy
of their hearts by a brilliant illumination.

The king still read, and became so absorbed that he did not hear the
door gently opened. The tall, slender form of the Marquis d'Argens
appeared at the threshold. Overcome with joyful emotions, he remained
standing, and gazing with clouded eyes at the king. Composing himself,
he closed the door softly behind him and advanced.

"Sire, will you forgive me for entering unannounced?"

The king sprang from his seat and held out both his hands. "Welcome,
welcome! I thank you for coming."

The marquis could not reply; he pressed his lips silently upon the
king's hands. "My God," he said, in a trembling voice, "how my heart has
longed for this happy moment--how many offerings I have vowed to Heaven
if allowed to see the king once more."

"You did not win Heaven by promises alone, friend, but you have offered
up a victim. You have left that precious bed which you have occupied for
the past eight months--you have gained a victory over yourself which is
of more value than many victories."

"Ah, your majesty," cried the marquis, whose black eyes were again
sparkling with mirth, "I now feel that my poor heart spoke the truth
when it declared that you were ever by its side. We have really not been
separated, and your majesty begins with me to-day where you left off but
yesterday. You laugh now as then at me, and my poor bed, which has he