“There you have made a great error, Herzberg,” replied the king, quickly. “Future generations are newer taught by the past--grandchildren think themselves wiser than their grandparents. The greatest of heroes is forgotten, and his deeds buried in the dust of ages. You have given me a glorious title of honor, and I know how little I deserve it.” “A title which will be confirmed in centuries to come, for every history will speak of Frederick the Second as Frederick Great.” “In history it may be, but the people will speak of me as ‘Old Fritz’--that will be on the lips of those who love me, and expression of endearment; on the lips of those who hate me, one of disaffection. I am, indeed, ‘Old Fritz,’ which the Bischofswerders and Woellners also call me, and try to make the crown prince believe that I have outlived my period, and do not understand or esteem the modern time. In their eyes I am a dismantled ship of state, which the storms of life have rendered unseaworthy. They would refit the vessel, and give it a new flag, sending Old Fritz, the helmsman, to the devil! The day of my death they will hoist this flag, with ‘Modern Time’ inscribed upon it in large letters. I shall then be united in Elysium with Voltaire, Jordan, Suhm, and all my other friends, as we were wont to be at Sans-Souci, and look down with a pitying smile upon the Modern Time and Old Folly!--Vale!” CHAPTER XXXVII. THE ESPOUSALS. Both Bischofswerder and Woellner hastened to avail themselves of the commanding “adieu,” and quit the royal presence. Without, the carriage was ready to reconvey them to the new palace. They were so exhausted that neither of them uttered a word, the last injunctions of the king ringing in their ears. Silently they alighted upon arriving, but as the footman came out to meet them they asked, simultaneously, if his royal highness had dined. “His highness is not here, having departed immediately after the two gentlemen, and is not yet returned,” he answered. “You may serve us something to eat as quickly as possible in the little dining-room. Let it be ready in a quarter of an hour,” commanded Bischofswerder. “Now that we are alone, what do you think of this affair?” asked Woellner. “I cannot vouchsafe a reply until I have eaten a pheasant’s wing, and drunken my champagne,” replied Bischofswerder. He kept his word, preserving a solemn silence until a good half of the bird had disappeared, and many glasses of iced champagne. Then Bischofswerder leaned back in his comfortable armchair with infinite ease, whilst his friend occupied himself with the most pious zeal with the pheasant, rejoicing at this revelation of the Invisibles. Bischofswerder let him enjoy it, and ordered the footman to serve the dessert and withdraw. “Now I am prepared to reply to you, my dear friend, that we are alone. I believe the king would have sent us to Spandau at once if we had opposed his free-thinking opinions.”