“I see it,” nodded the king. “You speak of him with great enthusiasm, and as what you so warmly recommend is generally able and well qualified, I begin to be interested in this Herr Moritz. When I return to Berlin--and Heaven grant that it may be soon!--I will at once empower you to present this luminary. Are you satisfied?” “Sire, dare I ask still more? I would beg your majesty to grant this young man an audience at once.” “How, at once! Is this phoenix here, who so interests my Minister Herzberg? Where is he from, and what does he wish?” “He is from Berlin; I met him making the journey on foot. He sat upon a stone, by the wayside, eating a piece of bread, with a glowing face, and so absorbed talking to himself in Latin that he heard not the creaking of my carriage through the sand. I recognized him immediately, and called him by name. He turned, perfectly unembarrassed and not at all ashamed to have been discovered in such an humble and poor position.” “That is to say, he is a good comedian,” said the king. “He knew that you would drive past there, and placed himself expressly to call your attention to him.” “I beg pardon, sire; Conrector Moritz could not have known that I would take this journey. You will recollect that the courier arrived at midnight with your majesty’s commands, and two hours later I was on the road, and have since travelled day and night. As I met the young man only five miles from this place, he must have set out many days before I thought of leaving Berlin.” “It is true,” said the king, “it was a false suspicion. You invited him into your carriage, did you not?” “I did very naturally, sire, as he told me he was going to beg an audience of your majesty. At first he refused decidedly, as he wished to travel on foot, like the pilgrims to the pope at Rome.” “An original, a truly original genius,” cried the king. “He is so indeed, and is so called by all his friends.” “Has he any friends?” asked the king, with an incredulous smile. “Yes, sire, many warm and sympathizing friends, who are much attached to him, and, on account of his distinguished and brilliant qualities, are willing to indulge his peculiarities.” “Herzberg, you are charmed, and speak of this man as a young girl in love!” “Sire, if I were a young girl, I should certainly fall in love with this Moritz, for he is handsome.” “Diable! I begin to fear this subject. You say he is handsome, learned, wise, and good, although he belongs to the airy, puffed-up Berliners. Did you let Herr Moritz wander on in his pilgrimage?” “No, sire, I persuaded him at last to accept a seat in my carriage, by explaining to him that your majesty might soon leave Welsdorf, and he would run the risk of not arriving in season. Upon no condition would he get inside, but climbed up behind, for, said he, with a firm, decided manner, ‘I go to the king as a beggar, not as a distinguished gentleman.’”