a great number of those amiable
people who are nothing, and have nothing, moving from place to place
cheerily.

The men on the shore who, with the aid of ropes, are pulling the boat,
those two-legged horses, groan from exertion. The bagpipe player is
making his gayest music, but in vain--he cannot allure the young people
to dance; there is no place for dancing, the large deck of the boat
is covered with human beings. Old men, and even women, are obliged to
stand; the two long benches running down both sides of the boat are
filled.

The king enjoyed the scene immensely. The free life about him, the
entire indifference to his own person, charmed and delighted him. He
leaned against the cabin, by which he was sitting, and regarded the
crowd before him. Suddenly he was touched on the shoulder, and not
in the gentlest manner. Looking up, he met the discontented face of a
peasant, who was speaking violently, but in Dutch, and the king did
not understand him; he therefore slightly shrugged his shoulders and
remained quiet.

The angry peasant continued to gesticulate, and pointed excitedly at
the ting and then at a pale young woman who was standing before him, and
held two children in her arms.

The king still shrugged his shoulders silently, but when the peasant
grasped him for the second time he waved him off, and his eye was
so stern that the terrified and astonished peasant stepped back
involuntarily.

At this moment a displeased murmur was heard among the crowd, and a
number arranged themselves by the side of the peasant, who approached
the king with a determined countenance.

The king remained sitting, and looked surprised at the threatening
countenances of the people, whose angry words he tried in vain to
comprehend.

The still increasing crowd was suddenly separated by two strong arms,
and Balby, who had been sitting at the other end of the boat, now
approached the king, accompanied by a friend, and placed himself at the
king's side.

"Tell me what these men want, mon ami," said Frederick, hastily; "I do
not understand Dutch."

"I understand it, sir," said the friend who accompanied Balby, "these
people are reproaching you."

"Reproaching me! And why?"

The stranger turned to the peasant who had first spoken, and who now
began to make himself heard again in loud and angry tones.

"Monsieur," said the stranger, "these good people are angry with you,
and, it appears to me, not entirely without cause. Th