Treat him carefully, my dear Count; he 's in one of his troublesome humours. For ex- ample—but I mustn't keep you waiting. Pray follow me."
"No, but pray tell me. Otherwise I might say something unfortunate."
"Well, he woke at six; and when the barber came to trim his beard there were—imagine it, Count !—no less than seven grey hairs. The King fell into a passion. 'Take it off,' he said. 'Take it off. I won't have a grey beard ! Take it off!' Well, what would you? A man is free to be shaved if he chooses, so much more a King. So it's taken off."
"His beard!"
"His beard, my dear Count. Then, after thanking heaven it was gone and declaring he looked ten years younger, he cried, 'The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim breakfasts with me to-day: what is there for breakfast?' And he had the chef out of his bed and—but, by heavens, I shall get into trouble if I stop here chattering. He's waiting most eagerly for you. Come along." And Bernen- stein, passing his arm through the Count's, walked him rapidly into the Castle.
The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was a young man; he was no more versed in affairs of this kind than Bernenstein, and it cannot be said that he showed so much aptitude for them. He was decidedly pale this morning;
