He looked down on the child, and as he did so smiled once more.
"Rise up, my little man," he said, in a kind voice; "kneel only to
your God. Will I let you stay with your Hirschvogel? Yes, I will;
you shall stay at my court, and you shall be taught to be a
painter,--in oils or on porcelain as you will,--and you must grow
up worthily, and win all the laurels at our Schools of Art, and if
when you are twenty-one years old you have done well and bravely,
then I will give you your Nurnberg stove, or, if I am no more
living, then those who reign after me shall do so. And now go away
with this gentleman, and be not afraid, and you shall light a fire
every morning in Hirschvogel, but you will not need to go out and
cut the wood."
Then he smiled and stretched out his hand; the courtiers tried to
make August understand that he ought to bow and touch it with his
lips, but August could not understand that anyhow; he was too
happy. He threw his two arms about the king's knees, and kissed
his feet passionately; then he lost all sense of where he was, and
fainted away from hunger, and tire, and emotion, and wondrous joy.
As the darkness of his swoon closed in on him, he heard in his
fancy the voice from Hirschvogel saying:--
"Let us be worthy our maker!"
He is only a scholar yet, but he is a happy scholar, and promises
to be a great man.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83