"Sire," said the marquis, drawing some letters from his pocket, "I have also some gifts to offer. This is a letter from Algarotti, and a small box of Italian snuff, which he begs to add as an evidence of his rejoicing in your victories. [Footnote: Ibid.] Here is a letter from Voltaire, and one from Lord Marshal."

"From all my distant friends--they have all thought of me," said Frederick, as he took the letters.

"But I have no time to read letters now; we will have music, and if agreeable to you, messieurs, we will practise a quartet which I composed during my solitude these last few days."

"Let us try it," said Quantz, carelessly opening the piano.

Frederick went to his room to seek his note-book, and place his letters upon the table, but, before he returned, he called the marquis to him.

"D'Argens," said he, "may I not thank you for this agreeable surprise?"

"Yes, sire, I proposed it, and took the responsibility upon myself. If your majesty is displeased, I am the only culprit!"

"And why have you made yourself the postilion, and brought me all these letters, marquis?"