Frederick the Great and His Court. L. Muhlbach

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      "Then I cannot receive any," said Ephraim, passively. "The poor Jew will wait still longer; he will give to the prince royal the gold which he needs, and of which the poor Jew still has a little. I humbly ask your highness if you would not like to borrow another thousand, which I will gladly lend upon one condition."

      "Well, and this condition?"

      "Your highness is to pay me upon the spot the interest upon the four thousand in ready money? Does your highness understand? Just now you wished to pay my capital with diamonds and horses. Will you give me as interest a few costly pearls—pearls which lie hidden in that flute, and which appear at your magical touch? I will count this as ready money!"

      Frederick came nearer to Ephraim, and eyeing him sternly, he said:

      "Are you mocking me? Would you make of the prince royal a travelling musician, who must play before the Jew, in order to soften his heart?—would you—? Ah, Fredersdorf," said he, interrupting himself, as his valet approached him in a dusty travelling-suit, "have you just arrived from Berlin?"

      "Yes, your highness; and as I was told who was importuning your highness, I came in without changing my dress. The banker gave me this package for you. I believe it is from Petersburg."

      "From Suhm," said the prince, with a happy smile, and hastily breaking the seal, he drew from the package a letter and several books. Casting a loving glance at the letter, he laid it on his writing-table; then turning away, so as not to be seen by Ephraim, he took up the two books, and looked carefully at their heavily-gilded covers. Frederick smiled, and, taking a penknife, he hastily cut off the backs of the books, and took out a number of folded papers. As the prince saw them, a look of triumph passed over his expressive face.

      "Ten thousand dollars!" said he to himself. "The empress and the Duke Biron have fulfilled their promise!"

      Frederick took some of the papers in his hand, and walked toward Ephraim.

      "Here are your four thousand dollars, and one hundred interest. Are you satisfied?"

      "No, your royal highness, I am not satisfied! I am not satisfied with myself. When I came to Rheinsberg I thought I had been wronged. It now seems to me that I have wronged your highness!"

      "Let that pass," said Frederick. "A prince must always be the scapegoat for the sin-offering of the people. They make us answerable for all their sufferings, but have no sympathy for us in our griefs. I owe you nothing more—you can go."

      Ephraim bowed silently, and turned slowly toward the door. The eyes of the prince followed him with a kindly expression. He stepped to the table, and took up his flute. Ephraim had reached the door of the ante-chamber, but when he heard the soft melting tones of the flute, he stopped, and remained listening breathlessly at the outer door. The piercing glance of the prince rested on him; but he continued to play, and drew from his flute such touching and melancholy tones that the poor Jew seemed completely overcome. He folded his hands, as though engaged in fervent prayer; and even Fredersdorf, although a daily hearer of the prince, listened in breathless silence to those sweet sounds.

      When the adagio was ended, the prince laid down his flute, and signed to Fredersdorf to close the door; he wished to give Ephraim an opportunity of slipping away unobserved.

      "Did your highness know that the Jew was listening?" said Fredersdorf.

      "Yes, I knew it; but I owed the poor devil something; he offered to lend me still another thousand dollars! I will remember this. And now, Fredersdorf, tell me quickly how goes it in Berlin? How is the king?"

      "Better, your highness. He set out for Potsdam a few days since, and the pure fresh air has done him good. He shows himself, daily upon the balcony, in full uniform. The physicians, it is true, look very thoughtful; but the rest of the world believe the king is rapidly improving."

      "God grant that the physicians may be again mistaken!" said the prince. "May the king reign many long and happy years! If he allow me to live as I wish, I would willingly give an arm if I could thereby lengthen his life. Well, now for mirth and song! We will be gay, and thus celebrate the king's improvement. Make, therefore, all liberal arrangements. Give the cook his orders, and tell the ladies and gentlemen assembled in the garden that I will be with them immediately."

      The prince was now alone; he opened the letter he had received with the gold; his eye rested lovingly upon the handwriting of his distant friend, and his heart glowed as he read the words of friendship, admiration, and love from Suhm.

      "Truly," he said, raising his eyes devoutly to heaven, "a faithful friend is worth more than a king's crown. In spite of all my brilliant prospects in the future, what would have become of me if Suhm had not stood by me for the second time and borrowed this money for me in Russia—this paltry sum, which I have in vain sought to obtain in my own land? My heart tells me to write a few lines at once to Suhm, expressing my unshaken friendship, my enduring love."

      Frederick seated himself, and wrote one of those soul-inspiring letters for which he was so celebrated, and which ended thus: "In a short time my fate will be decided! You can well imagine that I am not at ease in my present condition. I have little leisure, but my heart is young and fresh, and I can assure you that I was never more a philosopher than now. I look with absolute indifference upon the future. My heart is not agitated by hope or fear, it is full of pity for those who suffer, of consideration for all honest men, and of tenderness and sympathy for my friends. You, whom I dare proudly count among the latter, may be more and more convinced that you will ever find in me what Orestes was to his Pylades, and that it is not possible for any one to esteem and love you more than your devoted Frederick."

      "Now," said the prince, as he arose, "away with the burdens, the gravities and cares of life! Come, now, spirit of love! spirit of bliss! We will celebrate a feast this day in thy honor, thou goddess of youth and hope! Come, lovely Venus, and bring with thee thy son Cupid! We will worship you both. To you belongs this day, this night. You, goddess of love, have sent me the little Morien, that fluttering, light gazelle, that imperious, laughing fairy—that 'Tourbillon' of caprice and passion. Here is the poem I composed for her. Madame Brandt shall hand it to her, and shall lead the 'Tourbillon' into the temple of love. Away with earnest faces, dull eyes, and the wisdom of fools! Come over me, spirit of love, and grant me one hour of blessed forgetfulness."

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