door of the library. The king advanced. He was dressed simply; even
the golden star, which was seldom absent from his coat, was now
missing.

"Come, duke," said the king, pleasantly, "come into my tusculum." He
then entered the library, quickly followed by the duke.

"Well, sir," said the king, "we are now in that room in which I
lately told you I was but a republican. You have crossed the
threshold of the republic of letters!"

"But I see a king before me," said the duke, bowing reverentially;
"a king who has vanquished his republic, and surpassed all the great
spirits that have gone before him."

The king's glance rested upon the shelves filled with books, on
whose back glittered in golden letters the most distinguished names
of all ages.

"Homer, Tacitus, Livy, Petrarch!--ye great spirits of my republic!
hear how this traitor slanders you."

"How I honor you, sire, for truly it is a great honor to be subdued
and vanquished by such a king as Frederick the Second."

The king looked at him fixedly. "You wish to bewilder me with
flattery, duke," said he, "well knowing that it is a sweet opiate,
acceptable to princes, generally causing their ruin. But in this
chamber, duke, I am safe from this danger, and here in my republic
we will both enjoy the Spartan soup of truth. Believe me, sir, it is