The secret was now out. The tidings flew in all directions that the King of Prussia was in Strasbourg _incognito_. The king, not yet aware of the detection, called upon the marshal. A crowd of officers gathered eagerly around. The marshal was much embarrassed in his desire to respect the _incognito_, and also to manifest the consideration due to a sovereign. No one yet ventured to address him as king, though there were many indications that his rank was beginning to be known. Frederick therefore decided to get out of the city as soon as possible. To conceal his design, he made arrangements to attend the theatre with the marshal in the evening. The marshal went to the theatre with all his officers. The building was crowded with the multitude hoping to see the king. Bonfires began to blaze in the streets, and shouts were heard of “Long live the King of Prussia.” Frederick hastily collected his companions, paid his enormous bill at the Raven, “shot off like lightning,” and was seen in Strasbourg no more. Voltaire was at this time in Brussels. Frederick wrote him from Wesel, under date of 2d September, 1740, giving a narrative of his adventures, partly in prose, partly in verse. It was a long communication, the rhyme very much like that which a bright school-girl would write upon the gallop. The following specimen of this singular production will give the reader a sufficient idea of the whole: “MY DEAR VOLTAIRE,--You wish to know what I have been about since leaving Berlin. Annexed you will find a description of it. “I have just finished a journey intermingled with singular adventures, sometimes pleasant, sometimes the reverse. You know I had set out for Baireuth to see a sister whom I love no less than esteem. On the road Algarotti and I consulted the map to settle our route for returning by Wesel. Frankfort-on-the-Main comes always as a principal stage. Strasbourg was no great roundabout. We chose that route in preference. The _incognito_ was decided, names pitched upon, story we were to tell. In fine, all was arranged as well as possible. We fancied we should get to Strasbourg in three days. “Mais le ciel, qui de tout dispose, Régla différemment la chose. Avec de coursiers efflanqués, Et des paysans en postillons masqués, Butors de race impertinente, Notre carrosse en cent lieux accroché, Nous allions gravement d’une allure indolente, Gravitant contre les rochers, L’airs émus par le bruyant tonnere. Les torrents d’eau répandus sur la terre Du dernier jour menaçaient les humains. Et malgré notre impatience, Quatre bons jours en pénitence Sont pour jamais perdus dans les charrains.”