d into the circle with his suite,
is that the king's brother?"

"Yes, that is just his misfortune that he is the king's brother,"
answered a deep, sonorous voice behind them.

Turning, they beheld a young, elegantly dressed man, in the light gray
frock and gold-bordered, three-cornered hat, and a Spanish cane, with an
ivory handle.

"What did you remark, sir?" asked Herr Wolff; his great, brown eyes
flashing over the pale, intellectual face of the other, so that he was
quite confused, yet, as if enchanted, could not turn away. "What did you
remark, sir?" asked again Herr Wolff.

"I believe," stammered the other, "that I said it was the misfortune
of the prince that he was the brother only, as he was worthy of being
mentioned for himself; but I beg, sir, be a little indulgent, and do not
pry into my very soul with your godlike eyes. It will craze me, and
I shall run through the streets of Berlin, crying that the
Apollo-Belvedere has arrived at Potsdam, and invite all the poets and
authors to come and worship him."

"I believe you are right," cried the youngest of the two gentlemen,
laughing. "I believe myself it is the Apollo-Belvedere."

"Be still, my dear sir, hush, and preserve our incognito," interrupted
his companion.

"But I cannot help it, Wolff. Am I to blame that this clever fellow sees
through your mask, and discovers the divine spark which hides itself
under a gray Werther costume?"

"I pray, sir, grant my request, and respect our incognito," begged the
other, gently but firmly.

"Well, well, you shall have your way," laughed the other,
good-naturedly, and turning to the pale young man, who still kept his
eyes fixed on Herr Wolff in a sort of ecstacy, he said: "Let the authors
and poets stay in Berlin; we will persuade the disguised Apollo to meet
them there, and read them a lecture, for among the Berlin poets and
critics there are wicked heretics, who, if the Deity Himself wrote
tragedies and verses, would find some fault to object to."

"Pray tell me, sir, do you think Prince Henry a great man?"

"Did not the king call him so in his 'History of the Seven Years' War?'"
said the stranger. "Did he not publicly, in the presence of all his
generals, say, 'that Prince Henry was the only general who had not made
a mistake during the whole war?'"

"Do you believe the king will say that of the prince just riding in
with his suite, after the present war?" asked the young man, with
earnestness.

"You