"Now," said Pollnitz, whose face had not for one moment lost its
expression of cold attention and sly cunning, "how says the
barometer? May we promise ourselves a clear and sunny day?"

"Yes, Frederick is in one of his soft and yielding moods. It is
probable he has been some hours awake and has written to some of his
friends--perhaps to Voltaire, or Algarotti; this makes him always
bright and clear."

"You think I shall obtain my audience?"

"I think you will."

"Then, dear friend, I have only to say that I hope you will give me
the chocolate for that noble and soul-searching hound, the Signora
Biche."




CHAPTER III.

THE MORNING HOURS OF A KING.


King Frederick had finished the adagio, and stood leaning against
the window gazing into the garden; his eyes, usually so fierce and
commanding, were softened by melancholy, and a sad smile played upon
his lips. The touching air which he had played found its echo