in the hall strike eight. That was the sign that the
business of the day, which he shared with his attendants, should
begin, and that the king had no more time to devote to his private
correspondence. The last stroke of the clock had scarcely sounded, as
a light knock was heard at the door, which was instantly opened by the
command of the king.

Baron von Kircheisen, the prefect of Berlin, entered the room. He came
to make his weekly report to the king. His respectful greeting was
returned merely by a dark side-glance, and the king listened to his
report with evident displeasure.

"And that is your entire report?" asked his majesty, when the prefect
had finished. "You are the head of police for the city of Berlin, and
you have nothing more to tell me than any policemen might know. You
inform me of the number of arrivals and departures, of the births and
deaths, and of the thefts which have been committed, and that is the
extent of your report."

"But I cannot inform your majesty of things that have not occurred,"
returned Baron von Kircheisen.

"So nothing else has occurred in Berlin. Berlin is then a most quiet,
innocent city, where at the worst a few greatly-to-be-pitied individuals
occasionally disturb the repose of the righteous by mistaking the
property of others for their own. You know nothing. You do not know
that Berlin is the most vicious and immoral of cities. You can tell me
nothing of the crimes which are certainly not of a kind to be punished
by the law, but which are creeping from house to house, poisoning the
happiness of entire families, and spreading shame and misery on
every hand. You know nothing of the many broken marriage-vows, of the
dissension in families, of the frivolity of the young people who have
given themselves up to gambling and dissipation of all kinds. Much
misery might be avoided if you knew more of these matters, and were
ready with a warning at the right moment."

"Sire, will you permit me to say that is not the task of the ordinary
police; for such matters a secret police is required."

"Well, why do you not have a secret police? Why do you not follow the
example of the new minister of police at Paris, De Sartines? That man
knows every thing that happens in Paris. He knows the history of every
house, every family, and every individual. He occasionally warns the men
when their wives are on the point of flying from them. He whispers to
the wives the names of those who turn thei