To this individual, as a kind of human calmative and tonic combined, Sir Roger de Launay was in the habit of going whenever he felt his own customary tranquillity at all disturbed. The two were great friends;--friends in their mutual love and service of the King,--friends in their equally mutual but discreetly silent worship of the Queen,--and friends in their very differences of opinion on men and matters in general. De Launay, being younger, was more hasty of judgment and quick in action; but Von Glauben too had been known to draw his sword with unexpected rapidity on occasion, to the discomfiture of those who deemed him only at home with the scalpel. Just now, however, he was in a particularly non-combative and philosophic mood; he was watching certain animalculae wriggling in a glass tube, the while he sat in a large easy-chair with slippered feet resting on another chair opposite, puffing clouds of smoke from a big meerschaum,--and he did not stir from his indolent attitude when De Launay entered, but merely looked up and smiled placidly. “Sit down, Roger!” he said,--then, as De Launay obeyed the invitation, he pushed over a box of cigars, and added--“You look exceedingly tired, my friend! Something has bored you more than usual? Take a lesson from those interesting creatures!” and he pointed with the stem of his pipe to the bottled animalculae--“They are never bored,--never weary of doing mischief! They are just now living under the pleasing delusion that the glass tube they are in is a man, and that they are eating him up alive. Little devils! Nothing will exhaust their vitality till they have gorged themselves to death! Just like a great many human beings!” “I am not in the mood for studying animalculae,” said De Launay irritably, as he lit a cigar. “No? But why not? They are really quite as interesting as ourselves!” “Look here, Von Glauben, I want you to be serious--” “My friend, I am always serious,” declared the Professor--“Even when I laugh, I laugh seriously. My laughter is as real as myself.” “What would you think,”--pursued De Launay--“of a king who freely expressed his own opinions?” “I should say he was a brave man,” answered the Professor; “He would certainly deserve my respect, and he should have it. Even if the laws of etiquette were not existent, I should feel justified in taking off my hat to him.” “Never from henceforth wear a hat at all then,” said De Launay--“It will save you the trouble of continually doffing it at every glimpse of his Majesty!” Von Glauben drew his pipe from his mouth and gazed blankly at the ceiling for a few moments in silence. “His Majesty?” he presently murmured--“Our Majesty?” “Yes; our Majesty--our King”--replied De Launay--“For some inscrutable reason or other he has suddenly adopted the dangerous policy of speaking his mind. What now?”