In September, 1749, Madame Du Châtelet, the “divine Emilie” of Voltaire, suddenly died. The infidel philosopher seemed much grieved for a time. Frederick, who never fancied Madame Du Châtelet, was the more eager, now that she was out of the way, that Voltaire should come to Sans Souci, and aid him in his literary labors. A trivial incident occurred at this time worthy of record, as illustrative of the character of the king. At the close of the year 1749 there had been a review of Austrian troops at Mähren. It was not a very important affair, neither the empress queen nor her husband being present. Three Prussian officers made their appearance. It was said that they had come to inveigle soldiers to desert, and enlist under the banners of Prussia. They were peremptorily ordered by the Austrian authorities to leave the ground. Frederick, when he heard of it, said nothing, but treasured it up. A few months after, in May, 1750, there was a grand review at Berlin. An Austrian officer who chanced to be there was invited by his friend, a Prussian officer, Lieutenant Colonel Chasot, to attend. The Austrian was not willing to ride upon the parade-ground without the permission of the king. Colonel Chasot called upon Frederick and informed him that an Austrian officer would be happy, with his majesty’s permission, to be present at the review. “Certainly, certainly,” exclaimed the king. This was on the evening before the review. On the morrow the Austrian accordingly rode upon the field. He had hardly arrived there when, just as the manœuvres were commencing, one of the aids-de-camp of Frederick galloped up to him and said, “By the king’s command, sir, you are ordered instantly to retire from this field.” Colonel Chasot, exceedingly chagrined, rode directly to the king, and inquired, “Did not your majesty grant me permission to invite my friend to the review?” “Certainly,” replied the king, in his most courteous tones; “and if he had not come, how could I have paid back the Mähren business of last year?”