“Well, well, you shall have your way,” laughed the other, good-naturedly, and turning to the pale young man, who still kept his eyes fixed on Herr Wolff in a sort of ecstacy, he said: “Let the authors and poets stay in Berlin; we will persuade the disguised Apollo to meet them there, and read them a lecture, for among the Berlin poets and critics there are wicked heretics, who, if the Deity Himself wrote tragedies and verses, would find some fault to object to.” “Pray tell me, sir, do you think Prince Henry a great man?” “Did not the king call him so in his ‘History of the Seven Years’ War?’” said the stranger. “Did he not publicly, in the presence of all his generals, say, ‘that Prince Henry was the only general who had not made a mistake during the whole war?’” “Do you believe the king will say that of the prince just riding in with his suite, after the present war?” asked the young man, with earnestness. “You mean the Prince of Prussia,” answered the other, shaking his head. “There are men who call this prince the ‘hope of Prussia,’ and regard him as a new Aurora in the clouded sky.” “And you, sir, do you regard him so?” cried Herr Wolff. “Do you mean that the Prince of Prussia will usher in a brighter day for Germany?” “No,” answered the other. “I believe that day expires with Frederick the Great, and that a long night of darkness will succeed.” “Why do you think so?” “Because it is the course of nature that darkness succeeds light. Look at the prince, gentlemen--the divine light of genius is not stamped upon his brow, as formerly, and care will be taken that it is soon extinguished altogether.” “Who will take care?” “Those who are the enemies of light, civilization, and freedom.” “Who are they?” asked Herr Wolff. The other smiled, and answered: “Sir, so far as I, in all humility, call myself a scholar, I also owe to the god Apollo obedience, and must answer him, though it may endanger me. I answer, then, the enemies of light and civilization are the disguised Jesuits.” “Oh, it is easy to perceive that you do not belong to them, or you would not thus characterize them, and--” A mighty flourish of drums, and shrill blasts of horns and trumpets, drowned the youth’s words, and made all further conversation impossible. The king, followed by a brilliant suite, had just arrived at the parade. The regiments greeted their sovereign with loud blasts of trumpets, and the people shouted their farewell. Frederick lifted lightly his hat, and rode along the ranks of the well-ordered troops. He listened to the shouts with calm, composed manner; the Jupiter-flashes from his great eyes seemed to be spent forever. Mounted upon Caesar, his favorite horse, he looked today more bent, his back more bowed with the burden of years; and it was plainly visible that the hand which held the staff crosswise over the horse’s neck, holding at the same time the bridle, trembled from very weakness.