"In Paris, sire. I was dining in a small hotel in the village of Etampes, near Paris. A very elegant cavalier sat next me and from time to time, as if accidentally, addressed me in a refined and winning way; he informed himself as to my intentions and circumstances. I was an inexperienced youth, and the cavalier was adroit in questioning. This was at the time of the Mississippi speculation of the great financier Law. I had gained that day, in the Rue Quinquempois, the sum of four hundred thousand francs. I had this money with me, and after dinner I proposed to go to Versailles. I was not without apprehension, the streets were unsafe, and Cartouche with his whole band of robbers had for some time taken possession of the environs of Paris, and made them the theatre of his daring deeds." "So you received your new friend trustingly?" said the king, laughing heartily. "Yes, sire, and we had just agreed as to the hour of our departure, when a little maiden appeared under the window of our dining-room and sang in a loud, clear voice, 'Va-t-en, noble guerrier!' The strange cavalier rose and stepped to the window to give her a few sous, then went out--and I saw him no more." "And you conclude from this that the words of the song saved your life? you think that the man with whom you were eating was a poisoner?" "I thought nothing, sire, and forgot the adventure. A year after, I was standing in the street as Cartouche was being led to execution. All Paris was abroad to see the famous brigand. I had a good place, the procession passed immediately by me, and look you, I recognized in the poor sinner now being led to execution, the elegant gentleman of the cabaret at Etampes! He knew me also and stood still for a moment. 'Sir,' said he, 'I dined with you a year ago. The words of an old song gave me notice to leave the cabaret immediately. They announced to me that the pursuers were on my heels; your star was in the ascendant, stranger; had I accompanied you to Versailles, you would have lost your gold and your life.' Your majesty will now understand that these words, 'Va-t-en, noble guerrier,' saved my life." "I confess it, and I am now most curious to hear the words which you fear will bring my displeasure upon you." "Sire, I have been for more than forty years a faithful servant of your exalted house. Will you not admit this?" "Faithful?" repeated Frederick; "you were faithful to us when it was to your advantage: you deserted us when you thought it to your interest to do so. I reproached you with this in former times, but now that I know the world better, I forgive you. Go on, then, with your pathetic appeal." "Your majesty has often commanded me to make known to you every thing which the good people say of your royal family, and when any one dared to whisper a slander against you or yours, to inform you of it at once." "Does any one dare to do that?" said the king, with an expression of anguish upon his noble face. "Yes, sire."