within, and held his soul a prisoner to troubled thoughts. Suddenly
he seemed to rouse himself by a great effort to the realities of
life, and, hastily ringing the bell, he commanded Jordan, the
director of the poor and the almshouse, to be summoned to him.

A few moments later, Jordan, who had been for some days a guest at
the castle of Charlottenburg, entered the king's room. Frederick
advanced to meet him, and extended both hands affectionately. "Good-
morning, Jordan," said he, gazing into the wan, thin face of his
friend, with the most earnest sympathy. "I hope you had a refreshing
night."

"I have had a charming night, for I was dreaming of your majesty,"
he replied, with a soft smile.

Frederick sighed, released his hands, and stepped back a few paces.
"Your majesty?" repeated he. "Why do you lay so cold a hand upon
that heart which beats so warmly for you? To what purpose is this
etiquette? Are we not alone? and can we not accord to our souls a
sweet interchange of thought and feeling without ceremony? Do we not
understand and love each other? Forget, then, for awhile, dear
Jordan, all these worldly distinctions. You see I am still in my
morning-dress. I do not, like the poor kings upon the stage, wear my
crown and sceptre in bed, or with my night-dress."

Jordan gazed lovingly and admiringly upon his great friend. "You
need no crown upon your brow to show to the world that you are a
king by the grace of God. The majesty of greatness is written upon
your face, my king."