“Visits! and from whom?” cried the general; “tell me who dares--” “You, Governor.” These words, uttered in a haughty tone, offended the general. He answered, in a somewhat irritated voice: “You forget that my power knows no limits when it is a question of serving the king.” “Unless,” said Schumacker, “it were those of the respect due to misfortune. But men know nothing of that.” The ex-chancellor said this as if speaking to himself. The governor heard him. “Yes, indeed! yes, indeed! I was wrong, Count Griff--Mr. Schumacker, I should say; I should leave the privilege of anger to you, since the power is mine.” Schumacker was silent for a moment. “There is,” he resumed thoughtfully, “something about your face and voice, Governor, which reminds me of a man I once knew. It was very long ago. No one but myself can remember those days. It was in the time of my prosperity. He was one Levin de Knud, of Mecklenburg. Did you ever know the foolish fellow?” “I knew him,” quietly replied the general. “Oh, you remember him! I thought it was only in adversity that we remembered.” “Was he not a captain in the Royal Guards?” added the governor. “Yes, a mere captain, although the king loved him dearly. But he thought of nothing but pleasure, and seemed to have no ambition. He was a strange, mad fellow. Can you conceive that a favorite could be so moderate in his desires?” “I can understand it.” “I was fond of this Levin de Knud, because he never gave me any alarm. He was the king’s friend as he might have been the friend of any other man. It seemed as if he loved him for his own sake, and not for his position.” The general would have interrupted Schumacker; but the latter persisted, either from a spirit of contradiction, or because the train of thought into which he had drifted really pleased him. “Since you knew this Captain Levin, Governor, you probably know that he had a son who died young. But do you remember what happened at the birth of this son?” “I can better recall what occurred at the time of his death,” said the general, covering his eyes with his hand, and in a faltering voice. “But,” continued the heedless Schumacker, “this fact was known to very few persons, and it will show you just how peculiar this Levin was. The king wished to be the child’s godfather; would you believe that Levin refused? He did more; he chose an old beggar who hung about the palace gates, to hold his son at the baptismal font. I never could understand the reason for such an act of lunacy.” “I will tell you,” replied the general. “In choosing a guardian for his son’s soul, this Captain Levin doubtless thought that a poor man had more influence with God than a king.” Schumacker considered for a moment, then said: “You are right.” The governor again attempted to turn the conversation to the object of his visit. But Schumacker cut him short.