I was about to answer, when Colonel Sapt stepped between the King and
me, and began to talk to his Majesty in a low growl. The King towered
over Sapt, and, as he listened, his eyes now and again sought mine.
I looked at him long and carefully. The likeness was certainly
astonishing, though I saw the points of difference also. The King's face
was slightly more fleshy than mine, the oval of its contour the least
trifle more pronounced, and, as I fancied, his mouth lacking something
of the firmness (or obstinacy) which was to be gathered from
my close-shutting lips. But, for all that, and above all minor
distinctions, the likeness rose striking, salient, wonderful.

Sapt ceased speaking, and the King still frowned. Then, gradually, the
corners of his mouth began to twitch, his nose came down (as mine
does when I laugh), his eyes twinkled, and, behold! he burst into the
merriest fit of irrepressible laughter, which rang through the woods and
proclaimed him a jovial soul.

"Well met, cousin!" he cried, stepping up to me, clapping me on the
back, and laughing still. "You must forgive me if I was taken aback. A
man doesn't expect to see double at this time of day, eh, Fritz?"

"I must pray pardon, sire, for my presumption," said I. "I trust it will
not forfeit your Majesty's favour."

"By Heaven! you'll always enjoy the King's countenance," he laughed,
"whether I like it or not; and, sir, I shall very gladly add to it what
services I can. Where are you travelling to?"

"To Strelsau, sire--to the coronation."