Like an anecdote which you listen to, and smile at for the moment, but soon forget, so had the whole occurrence vanished again from him.

It was an anecdote of the moment--a transient interlude--nothing further.
The king had slept well, and he had no care for anything else.

He stretched himself, and lay lounging on his couch, thinking with rapture how fine it would be if he could enjoy such sweet and refreshing repose every day, and if no bad dreams and no fear would frighten away sleep from his eyes.

He felt very serene and very good-humored; and had any one now come to beg a favor of the king, he would have granted it in the first joy after such invigorating sleep.

But he was alone; no one was with him; he must repress his gracious desires.