"I answer your majesty clearly and distinctly."
"You wish me to ask you to excuse a moment of passion, caused by your madness."
"Not so. If you were capable of breaking the cane sceptre which rules Prussia, I would ask your majesty to pick up this stick."
"Bah! When I shall have slightly caressed your shoulders with this, (for it is a cane given to me by Voltaire). You have twice as much sense. Listen! I am fond of this cane, but I know I owe you a reparation."
As he spoke, the king took up the cane, and was about to break it. It was in vain, however, that he pressed it to his knee; the bamboo bent, but would not break.
"See," said the king, throwing it into the fire, "the cane is not, as you said, the image of my sceptre. It is like to faithful Prussia, which bends to my will, but which will not be broken by it. Act thus, Porporina, and it will be well for you."
"What, then, is your majesty's wish in relation to me? I am, indeed, a strange person to trouble the equanimity of so great a character?"
"It is my will that you give up your intention of leaving Berlin. Do you think this offensive?"
The eager and almost passionate glance of Frederick explained this reparation. Consuelo felt her terrors revive. She said--
"I will not consent. I see I would have to pay too dearly for the honor of sometimes amusing your majesty by my voice. All here are objects of suspicion. The lowest and most obscure are liable to be accused. I cannot live thus."
"Are you dissatisfied with your salary?" said Frederick. "It will be increased."
"No, sire. I am not avaricious: your majesty is aware of that."
"True. You do not worship money--I must do you that justice. No one knows what you love!"
"And who interferes with that? You seek to make a quarrel, and have no excuse for doing so. You wish to go--that is plain."
The king took up his hat and cane, which, having rolled off the andirons, had not burnt, and turning his back, went to the door. As he was about to open it, however, he turned to Consuelo, and his face was so very sad, so paternally distressed, so different, in fact, from the terrible royal brow, or the bitter skeptic sneer, that the poor girl was sad and repentant. Having while with Porpora grown used to these domestic storms, made her forget that in Frederick's feelings towards her there was something stern and selfish which had never existed in the heart of her adopted father, which was chastely and generously ardent. She turned away to hide a fugitive tear, but the eye of the lynx was not more acute than that of the king. Returning and shaking his cane over Consuelo again, yet with as much tenderness as if she had been one of his own children, he said--