It was about the middle of December when we came to Berlin, where I
was received with open arms. I became less cautious than formerly,
and, perhaps, more narrowly observed. A lieutenant of the foot
guards, who was a public Ganymede, and against whom I had that
natural antipathy and abhorrence I have for all such wretches,
having indulged himself in some very impertinent jokes on the secret
of my amour, I bestowed on him the epithet he deserved: we drew our
swords, and he was wounded. On the Sunday following I presented
myself to pay my respects to his Majesty on the parade, who said to
me as he passed, "The storm and the thunder shall rend your heart;
beware!" {1} He added nothing more.

Some little time after I was a few minutes too late on the parade;
the King remarked it, and sent me, under arrest, to the foot-guard
at Potzdam. When I had been here a fortnight, Colonel Wartensleben
came, and advised me to petition for pardon. I was then too much a
novice in the modes of the court to follow his counsel, nor did I
even remark the person who gave it me was himself a most subtle
courtier. I complained bitterly that I had so long been deprived of
liberty, for a fault which was usually punished by three, or, at
most, six days' arrest. Here accordingly I remained.

Eight days after, the King being come to Potzdam, I was sent by
General Bourke to Berlin, to carry some letters, but without having
seen the King. On my return I presented myself to him on the
parade; and as our squadron was garrisoned at Berlin, I asked, "Does
it please your Majesty that I should go and join my corps?" "Whence
came you?" answered he. "From Berlin." "And where were you before