Frederick thought of this, as with folded hands he walked up and
down, and recalled the past. Sunk in deep thought, he remained
standing before a picture that hung on the wall above his secretary,
which represented Barbarina in the fascinating costume of a
shepherdess, as he had seen her for the first time ten years ago; it
had been painted by Pesne for the king. What recollections, what
dreams arose before the king's soul as he gazed at that bewitching
and lovely face; at those soft, melting eyes, whose glance had once
made him so happy! But that was long ago; it had passed like a
sunbeam on a rainy day, it had been long buried in clouds. These
remembrances warmed the king's heart as he now stood so solitary and
loveless before this picture; and he confessed to that sweet image,
once so fondly loved, what he had never admitted to himself, that
his heart was very lonely.
But these painful recollections, these sad thoughts, did not last.
The king roused himself from those dangerous dreams, and on leaving
the picture cast upon it almost a look of hatred.
"This is folly," he said; "I will to work."
He approached the secretary, and seized the sealed letters and
packets that were lying there.
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