The king walked again to the window, and, hidden by the curtain, peeped out. “So, this is Herr Goethe, is it? What assurance! There he stands, sketching the house. What wonderful eyes the man has! With what a proud, confident manner he looks around! What a brow! Truly he is a handsome fellow, and Herzberg may be right after all. That brow betokens thought, and from those eyes there flashes a divine light. But he looks overbearing and proud. Now, I am doubly pleased that I refused Herzberg to have any thing to do with him. Such presumptive geniuses must be rather kept back; then they feel their power, and strive to bring themselves forward. Yes! I believe that man has a future. He looks like the youthful god Apollo, who may have condescended to descend to earth! He shall not entrap me with his beautiful head. If he is the man who makes good and bad weather in Weimar, he shall learn that rain and sunshine at Sans-Souci do not depend upon him; that the sun and clouds here do not care whether Herr Goethe is in the world or not. For sunshine and storm we depend upon the Great Weather-Maker, to whom we must all bow; evil and good days in Prussia shall emanate from me, so long as I live. Sometimes I succeed in causing a little sunshine,” continued the king. “I believe the Prince of Prussia has to-day felt the happy influence of the sun’s rays; and while it is dull and lonely at Sans-Souei, may it be brighter and more cheerful at Charlottenburg! Eh bien! old boy,” said the king, stopping, “you are playing the sentimental, and eulogizing your loneliness. Well, well, do not complain.--Oh, come to me, spirits of my friends, and hold converse with me! Voltaire, D’Argens, and my beloved Lord-Marshal Keith! Come to me, departed souls, with the memories of happier days, and hover with thy cheering, sunny influence over the wrinkled brow of old Fritz!” While the lonely king implored the spirits of his friends, to brighten with their presence the quiet, gloomy apartment at Sans-Souci, the sun shone in full splendor at Charlottenburg--the sunshine beaming from the munificence of Frederick. Wilhelmine Enke had passed the whole day in admiring the beautiful and tasteful arrangement of the villa. Every piece of furniture, every ornament, she examined attentively--all filled her with delight. The prince, who accompanied her from room to room, listened to her outbursts of pleasure, rejoicing. “I wish that I could often prepare such happiness for you, dearest, for my heart is twice gladdened to see your beaming face.” “Reflected from your own. You are my good genius upon earth. You have caused the poor, neglected child to become the rich and happy woman. To you I owe this home, this foot of earth, which I can call my own. Here blossom the flowers for me--here I am mistress, and those who enter must come as my guests, and honor me. All this I owe to you.”