He now
for the first time realized the joy of being again at home; his
country had received him and embraced him with loving arms.
With glowing cheeks he turned toward the marquis, who was leaning
against the door behind him.
"Oh, D'Argens! it is sweet to be again in one's own native land--the
peace of home is sweet. The old furniture appears to welcome me;
that old chair stretches its arms wooingly toward me, as if to lure
me to its bosom, and give me soft sleep and sweet dreams in its
embrace. Marquis, I feel a longing to gratify my old friend; I yield
to its gentle, silent pleadings."
Frederick stepped to the arm-chair and sank into it with an
expression of indescribable comfort.
"Ah, now I feel that I am indeed at home."
"Allow me," said D'Argens, "to say, your majesty, what the dear old
arm-chair, in spite of its eloquence, cannot express. I, also, am a
piece of the old furniture of this dear room, and in the name of all
my voiceless companions, I cry 'Welcome to my king!' We welcome you
to your country and your home. You return greater even than when you
left us. Your noble brow is adorned with imperishable laurels; your
fame resounds throughout the earth, and every nation sings to you a
hymn of victory.
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