"You are incorrigible," said the king. "I doubt if all mankind are made after the image of God. I think many of the race resemble the devil, and I look upon you, Pollnitz, as a tolerably successful portrait of his satanic majesty. I don't suppose you will be much discomposed by this opinion. I imagine you look upon God and the devil in very much the same light."
"Oh, not so, your majesty; I am far too religious to fall into such errors."
"Yes, you are too religious; or, rather you have to many religions.To which, for example, do you now profess to belong?"
"Sire, I have become a Protestant."
"From conviction?"
"So long as I believed in the possibility of marrying several millions—yes, from conviction. These millions would have made me happy, and surely I might allow myself to become a Protestant in order to be happy."
"Once for all, how many times have you changed your religion?" said the king, thoughtfully.
"Oh, not very often, sire! I am forever zealously seeking after the true faith, and so long as I do not find that religion which makes me content with such things as I have, I am forced to change in justice to myself. In my childhood I was baptized and brought up a Lutheran, and I had nothing against it, and remained in that communion till I went to Rome; there I saw the Holy Father, the Pope, perform mass, and the solemn ceremony roused my devotional feelings to such a height that I became a Catholic immediately. This was, however, no change of religion. Up to this time I had not acted for myself; so the Catholic may be justly called my first faith."
"Yes, yes! that was about the time you stole your dying bride's diamonds and fled from France."
"Oh, your majesty, that is a wicked invention of my enemies, and utterly unfounded. If I had really stolen and sold those magnificent brilliants—worth half a million—from my dying love, it would have been sufficient to assure me a luxurious life, and I should not have found it imperative to become a Catholic."
"Ah, you confess, then, that you did not become a Catholic from conviction, but in order to obtain the favor of the cardinals and the Pope?"
"Nothing escapes the quick eye of your majesty, so I will not dare to defend myself. I came back to Berlin then, a Catholic, and the ever-blessed king received me graciously. He was a noble and a pious man, and my soul was seized with a glowing desire to imitate him. I saw, indeed, how little I had advanced on the path to glory by becoming a Catholic! I made a bold resolve and entered the Reformed Church."
"And by this adroit move you obtained your object: you became the favorite of my father the king. As he, unhappily, can show you no further favor, it is no longer prudent to be a reformer, so you are again a Lutheran—from conviction!"
"Oh, all the world knows the great, exalted, and unprejudiced mind of our young king," said Pollnitz. "It is to him a matter of supreme indifference what religious sect a man belongs to, so he adopts that faith which makes him a brave, reliable, and serviceable subject of his king and his fatherland."
Frederick cast a dark and contemptuous glance at him. "You are a miserable mocker and despiser of all holy things; you belong to that large class who, not from convictions of reason, but from worldly- mindedness and licentiousness, do not believe in the Christian religion. Such men can never be honest; they have, perhaps, from their childhood been preached to, not to do evil from fear of hell- fire; and so soon as they cease to believe in hell-fire, they give themselves up to vice without remorse. You are one of these most miserable wretches; and I say to you, that you will at last suffer the torments of the damned. I know there is a hell-fire, but it can only be found in a man's conscience! Now go and enter at once upon your duties; in two hours I will receive Count Tessin in the palace at Berlin."
Pollnitz made the three customary bows and left the room. The king gazed after him contemptuously. "He is a finished scoundrel!" Then turning to Fredersdorf, who at that moment entered the room, he said, "I believe Pollnitz would sell his mother if he was in want of money. You have brought me back a charming fellow; I rejoice that there are no more of the race; Pollnitz has at least the fame of being alone in his style. Is there any one else who asks an audience?"
"Yes, sire, the antechamber is full, and every man declares that his complaint can only be made personally to your majesty. It will require much time to listen to all these men, and would be, besides, a bad example. If your majesty receives fifty men to-day, a hundred will demand audience to-morrow; they must therefore be put aside; I have advised them all to make their wishes known in writing."
"Well, I think every man knows that is the common mode of proceeding; as these people have not adopted it, it is evident they prefer speaking to me. There are many things which can be better said than written. A king has no right to close his ear to his subjects. A ruler should not resemble a framed and curtained picture of a god, only on rare and solemn occasions to be stared and wondered at; he must be to his people what the domestic altar and the household god was to the Romans, to which they drew near at all hours with consecrated hearts and pious memories. Here they made known all their cares, their sorrows, and their joys; here they found comfort and peace. I will never withdraw myself from my subjects; no, I will be the household god of my people, and will lend a willing ear to all their prayers and complaints. Turn no man away, Fredersdorf; I will announce it publicly, that every man has the right to appeal to me personally."
"My king is great and good," said Fredersdorf, sadly; "every man but myself can offer his petition to your majesty and hope for grace; the king's ear is closed only to me; to my entreaties he will not listen."
"Fredersdorf, you complain that I will not give my consent to your marriage. What would you? I love you too well to give you up; but when you take a wife you will be forever lost to me. A man cannot serve two masters, and I will not divide your heart with this Mademoiselle Daum; you must give it to me entire! Do not call me cruel, Fredersdorf; believe that I love you and cannot give you up."
"Oh, sire, I shall only truly belong to you in love and gratitude, when you permit me to be happy and wed the maiden I so fondly love."
"I will have no married private secretary, nor will I have a married secretary of state," said the king, with a dark frown. "Say not another word, Fredersdorf; put these thoughts away from you! My God, there are so many other things on which you could have set your heart! why must it be ever on a woman?"
"Because I love her passionately, your majesty."
"Ah, bah! do you not love other things with which you can console yourself? You are a scholar and an alchemist. Well, then, read Horace; exercise yourself in the art of making gold, and forget this Mademoiselle Daum, who, be it said, in confidence between us, has no other fascination than that she is rich. As to her wealth, that can have but little charm for YOU, who, without doubt, will soon have control of all the treasures of the world. By God's help, or the devil's, you will very soon, I suppose, discover the secret of making gold."
"He has, indeed, heard my conversation with Joseph," said Fredersdorf to himself, and ashamed and confused, he cast his eyes down before the laughing glance of the king.
"Read your Horace diligently," said Frederick—"you know he is also my favorite author; you shall learn one of his beautiful songs by heart, and repeat it to me."
The king walked up and down the room, and cast, from time to time, a piercing glance at Fredersdorf. He then repeated from Horace these two lines:
"'Torment not your heartWith the rich offering of a bleeding lamb.'"
"I see well," said Fredersdorf, completely confused, "I see well that your majesty knows—"
"That it is high time," said the king, interrupting him, "to go to Berlin; you do well to remind me of it. Order my carriage—I will be off at once."
Princess Ulrica, the eldest of the two unmarried sisters of the king, paced her room with passionate steps. The king had just made the queen-mother a visit, and had commanded that his two sisters should be present at the interview.
Frederick was gay and talkative. He told them that the Signora Barbarina had arrived, and would appear that evening at the castle theatre. He invited his mother and the two princesses to be present. He requested them to make tasteful and becoming toilets, and to be bright and amiable at the ball and supper after the theatre. The king implored them both to be gay: the one, in order to show that she was neither angry nor jealous; the other, that she was proud and happy.
The curiosity of the two young girls was much excited, and they urged the king to explain his mysterious words. He informed them that Count Tessin, the Swedish ambassador, would be present at the ball; that he was sent to Berlin to select a wife for the prince royal of Sweden, or, rather, to receive one; the choice, it appeared, had been already made, as the count had asked the king if he might make proposals for the hand of the Princess Amelia, or if she were already promised in marriage. The king replied that Amelia was bound by no contract, and that proposals from Sweden would be graciously received.
"Be, therefore, lovely and attractive," said the king, placing his hand caressingly upon the rosy cheek of his little sister; "prove to the count that the intellectual brow of my sweet sister is fitted to wear a crown worthily."
The queen-mother glanced toward the window into which the PrincessUlrica had hastily withdrawn.
"And will your majesty really consent that the youngest of my daughters shall be first married?"
The king followed the glance of his mother, and saw the frowning brow and trembling lip of his sister. Frederick feared to increase the mortification of Ulrica, and seemed, therefore, not to observe her withdrawal.
"I think," said he, "your majesty was not older than Amelia when you married my father; and if the crown prince of Sweden wishes to marry Amelia, I see no reason why we should refuse him. Happily, we are not Jews, and our laws do not forbid the younger sister to marry first. To refuse the prince the hand of Amelia, or to offer him the hand of Ulrica, would indicate that we feared the latter might remain unsought. I think my lovely and talented sister does not deserve to be placed in such a mortifying position, and that her hand will be eagerly sought by other royal wooers."
"And, for myself, I am not at all anxious to marry," said Ulrica, throwing her head back proudly, and casting a half-contemptuous, half-pitiful look at Amelia. "I have no wish to marry. Truly, I have not seen many happy examples of wedded life in our family. All my sisters are unhappy, and I see no reason why I should tread the same thorny path."
The king smiled. "I see the little Ulrica shares my aversion to wedded life, but we cannot expect, dearest, that all the world should be equally wise. We will, therefore, allow our foolish sister Amelia to wed, and run away from us. This marriage will cost her anxiety and sorrow; she must not only place her little feet in the land of reindeers, bears, and eternal snows, but she must also be baptized and adopt a new religion. Let us thank God, then, that the prince has had the caprice to pass you by and choose Amelia, who, I can see, is resolved to be married. We will, therefore, leave the foolish child to her fate."
It was Frederick's intention, by these light jests, to comfort his sister Ulrica, and give her time to collect herself. He did not remark that his words had a most painful effect upon his younger sister, and that she became deadly pale as he said she must change her faith in order to become princess royal of Sweden.
The proud queen-mother had also received this announcement angrily. "I think, sire," said she, "that the daughter of William the Second, and the sister of the King of Prussia, might be allowed to remain true to the faith of her fathers."
"Madame," said the king, bowing reverentially, "the question is not, I am sorry to say, as to Amelia's father or brother; she will be the mother of sons, who, according to the law of the land, must be brought up in the religion of their father. You see, then, that if this marriage takes place, one of the two contracting parties must yield; and, it appears to me, that is the calling and the duty of the woman."
"Oh, yes," said the queen bitterly, "you have been educated in too good a school, and are too thoroughly a Hohenzollern, not to believe in the complete self-renunciation of women. At this court, women have only to obey."
"Nevertheless, the women do rule over us; and even when we appear to command, we are submissive and obedient," said the king, as he kissed his mother's hand and withdrew.
The three ladies also retired to their own rooms immediately. Each one was too much occupied with her own thoughts to bear the presence of another.
And now, being alone, the Princess Ulrica found it no longer necessary to retain the smiles which she had so long and with such mighty effort forced to play upon her lips; every pulse was beating with glowing rage, and she gave free course to her scorn.
Her younger sister, this little maiden of eighteen years, was to be married, to wed a future king; while she, the eldest, now two-and- twenty, remained unchosen! And it was not her own disinclination nor the will of the king which led to this shameful result; no! the Swedish ambassador came not to seek her hand, but that of her sister! She, the elder, was scorned—set aside. The king might truthfully say there was no law of the land which forbade the marriage of the younger sister before the elder; but there was a law of custom and of propriety, and this law was trampled upon.
As Ulrica thought over these things, she rose from her seat with one wild spring. On entering the room she had completely overcome, and, with trembling knees, she had fallen upon the divan. She stood now, however, like a tigress prepared for attack, and looking for the enemy she was resolved to slay. The raging, stormy blood of the Hohenzollerns was aroused. The energy and pride of her mother glowed with feverish pulses in her bosom. She would have been happy to find an enemy opposed to her, the waves of passion rushing through her veins might have been assuaged; but she was alone, entirely alone, and had no other enemy to overcome than herself. She must, then, declare war against her own evil heart. With wild steps she rushed to the glass, and scrutinizingly and fiercely examined her own image. Her eye was cold, searching, and stern. Yes, she would prove herself; she would know if it were any thing in her own outward appearance which led the Swedish ambassador to choose her sister rather than herself.
"It is true, Amelia is more beautiful, in the common acceptation of the word; her eyes are larger, her cheek rosier, her smile more fresh and youthful, and her small but graceful figure is at the same time childlike and voluptuous. She would make an enchanting shepherdess, but is not fitted to be a queen. She has no majesty, no presence. She has not by nature that imposing gravity, which is the gift of Providence, and cannot be acquired, and without which the queen is sometimes forgotten in the woman. Amelia can never attain that eternal calm, that exalted composure, which checks all approach to familiarity, and which, by an almost imperceptible pressure of the hand and a light smile, bestows more happiness and a more liberal reward than the most impassioned tenderness and the warmest caresses of a commonplace woman. No, Amelia could never make a complete queen, she can only be a beautiful woman; while I—I know that I am less lovely, but I feel that I am born to rule. I have the grace and figure of a queen—yes, I have the soul of a queen! I would understand how to be imposing, and, at the same time, to obtain the love of my people, not from any weak thirst for love, but from a queenly ambition. But I am set aside, and Amelia will be a queen; my fate will be that of my elder sisters, I shall wed a poor margrave, or paltry duke, and may indeed thank God if I am not an old maiden princess, with a small pension."
She stamped wildly upon the floor, and paced the room with hasty steps. Suddenly she grew calmer, her brow, which had been overshadowed by dark clouds, cleared, and a faint smile played upon those lips which a moment before had been compressed by passion.
"After all," she said, "the formal demand for the hand of Amelia has not yet been made; perhaps the ambassador has mistaken my name for that of Amelia, and as he has made no direct proposition, I am convinced he wishes to make some observations before deciding. Now, if the result of this examination should prove to him that Amelia is not fitted to be the wife of his prince, and if Amelia herself—I thought I saw that she turned pale as the king spoke of abandoning her faith; and when she left the room, despair and misery were written upon that face which should have glowed with pride and triumph. Ah, I see land!" said Ulrica, breathing freely and sinking comfortably upon the divan, "I am no longer hopelessly shipwrecked; I have found a plank, which may perhaps save me. Let me consider calmly,"—and, as if Fate itself were playing into her hand, the door opened and Amelia entered.
One glance was sufficient to show Ulrica that she was not deceived, and that this important event had brought no joy to poor Amelia. The lovely eyes of the princess were red with weeping; and the soft lips, so generally and gladly given to gay chat and merry laughter, were now expressive of silent anguish. Ulrica saw all this, and laid her plans accordingly. In place of receiving Amelia coldly and repulsively, which but a few moments before she would have done, she sprang to meet her with every sign of heart-felt love; the little maiden threw herself weeping convulsively into her sister's arms, and was pressed closely and tenderly to her bosom.
"Tears!" said Ulrica lovingly, as she drew her sister to the sofa and pressed her down upon the soft pillows; "you weep, and yet a splendid future is this day secured to you!"
Amelia sobbed yet more loudly and pressed her tear-stained face more closely to the bosom of her sister. Ulrica looked down with a mixture of curiosity and triumph; she could not understand these tears; but she had a secret satisfaction in seeing the person she most envied weeping so bitterly.
"How is this? are you not happy to be a queen?"
Amelia raised her face hastily and sobbed out: "No! I am not pleased to be an apostate, to perjure myself! I am not content to deny my faith in order to buy a miserable earthly crown! I have sworn to be true to my God and my faith, and now I am commanded to lay it aside like a perishable robe, and take another in exchange."
"Ah, is it that?" said Ulrica, with a tone of contempt she could scarcely control; "you fear this bold step by which your poor innocent soul may be compromised."
"I will remain true to the belief in which I have been educated, and to which I have dedicated myself at the altar!" cried Amelia, bursting again into tears.
"It is easy to see that but a short time only has elapsed since you took these vows upon you. You have all the fanaticism of a new convert. How would our blessed father rejoice if he could see you now!"
"He would not force me to deny my religion; he would not, for the sake of outward splendor, endanger my soul's salvation. Oh! it is harsh and cruel of my brother to treat me as a piece of merchandise; he asks not whether my heart or principles can conscientiously take part in his ambitious plans."
Ulrica cast a long and piercing glance upon her sister. She would gladly have searched to the bottom of her soul; she wished to know if this fierce opposition to the marriage was the result of love to the faith of her fathers.
"And you are not ambitious? you are not excited by the thought of being a queen, of marrying a man who will fill a place in the world's history?"
The young girl raised her eyes in amazement, and her tears ceased to flow.
"What has a woman to do with the world's history?" she said; "think you I care to be named as the wife of a king of Sweden? It is a sad, unhappy fate to be a princess. We are sold to him who makes the largest offer and the most favorable conditions. Well, let it be so; it is the fate of all princesses; it is for this we are educated, and must bow humbly to the yoke; but liberty of conscience should be at least allowed us, freedom of thought, the poor consolation of worshipping God in the manner we prefer, and of seeking help and protection in the arms of that religion we believe in and love."
"One can be faithful to God even when unfaithful to their first faith," said Ulrica, who began already to make excuses to herself for the change of religion she contemplated.
"That is not in my power!" cried Amelia passionately. "I cling to the religion of my house, and I should tremble before the wrath of God if I gave it up."
"After all, it is but a small and unimportant difference between the Reformed and Lutheran Churches," said Ulrica, much excited, and entirely forgetting that the question had as yet no relation to herself. "One can be as pious a Christian in the Reformed Church as in the Lutheran."
"Not I; it is not in my power," said Amelia, with the wilfulness of a spoiled child not accustomed to opposition. "I will not become a Lutheran. A Pollnitz may change his faith, but not the daughter of Frederick William. Did not the king with indignation and contempt relate to us how Pollnitz had again changed his religion and become a Protestant? Did we not laugh heartily, and in our hearts despise the dishonorable man? I will not place myself in such a position."
"Then, my sister, there will be stormy times and stern strife in our household: the bitter scenes of earlier days will be renewed. Our royal brother is not less resolute than our stern father. I fear that his brothers and sisters are nothing more to him than useful instruments in this great state machine, and they must bow themselves unquestioningly to his commands."
"Yes, I feel this; I see it clearly," said Amelia, trembling; "and for this reason, dear sister, you must stand by me and help me. I swear to you that I will not become a Lutheran."
"Is that your unchangeable resolution?"
"Yes, unchangeable."
"Well, if that is so, I will give you my counsel."
"Speak, speak quickly," said Amelia, breathlessly, and throwing her arms around the slender waist of her sister, she laid her head trustingly upon her shoulder.
"Firstly, the Swedish ambassador has not made a formal demand for your hand; that probably proves that he will first examine and observe you closely, to see if you are suited to be the wife of the prince royal. We have still, therefore, a short delay, which, if wisely used, may conduct you to the desired goal. But, Amelia, prove yourself once more; ask counsel again of your heart and conscience, before you make a final resolve. I will not have you complain of me in future, and say that my foolish and guilty counsel lost you the throne of Sweden."
"Oh, fear not, my beloved sister. I will not be queen of Sweden at the cost of my immortal soul."
"You will not, then, reproach me, Amelia?"
"Never."
"Listen, then. From this moment lay a mask upon your face; that is to say, assume a proud, rude, overbearing tone to all around you— toward your friends, your servants, the court circle, yes, even toward the members of your family. Particularly in the presence of this Swedish ambassador, show yourself to be a capricious, nervous, and haughty princess, who scarcely thinks it worth the trouble to speak a word, or give a friendly glance, to a man in his position. When you speak to him and he attempts to answer, cut short his replies, and command him to be silent; if he strives to win your favor by the most respectful civility, let an unmistakable expression of contempt be written upon your face, and let that be your only answer. Regulate your conduct for a few days by these rules, and I am convinced you will attain your object."
"Yes, yes! I understand, I understand!" said the young girl, clapping her little white hands, and looking up joyously. "I shall, by my pride and passion, freeze the words in the mouth of my lord ambassador, so that the decisive word cannot find utterance. Oh! this will be a precious comedy, my sweet sister, and I promise you to carry out my role of heroine to perfection. Oh, I thank you! I thank you! I am indeed happy to have found so wise a sister, so brave a comrade in arms, while surrounded with such perils!"
"She would not have it otherwise," said Ulrica, laconically, as she found herself again alone. "If she is without ambition, so much the worse for her—so much the better for me! And now, it is high time to think of my toilet—that is the most important consideration. To- day I must be not only amiable, but lovely. To-day I will appear an innocent and unpretending maiden."
With a mocking smile she entered her boudoir, and called her attendants.
Princess Ulrica was earnestly occupied with considerations of her toilet. Amelia had returned to her room, musing and thoughtful.
There were difficulties in the way of the new role she had resolved to play, and by which she expected to deceive the world. She stood for a moment before the door of her dressing-room, and listened to the voices of her attendants, who were gayly laughing and talking. It was her custom to join them, and take a ready part in their merry sports and jests. She must now, however, deny herself, and put a guard over her heart and lips. Accordingly, with a dark frown on her brow and tightly-compressed lips, she entered the room in which her maids were at that moment arranging her ball toilet for the evening.
"It seems to me that your loud talking is most unseemly," said Amelia, in a tone so haughty, so passionate, that the smiles of the two young girls vanished in clouds. "I will be obliged to you if you will complete your work noiselessly, and reserve your folly till you have left my room! And what is that, Mademoiselle Felicien? for what purpose have you prepared these flowers, which I see lying upon your table?"
"Your royal highness, these flowers are for your coiffure, and these bouquets are intended to festoon your dress."
"How dare you allow yourself to decide upon my toilet, mademoiselle?"
"I have not dared," said Felicien, tremblingly; "your royal highness ordered moss roses for your hair, and bouquets of the same for your bosom and your robe."
"It appears to me," said Amelia, imperiously, "that to contradict me, and at the same time assert that which is false, is, to say the least, unbecoming your position. I am not inclined to appear in the toilet of a gardener's daughter. To prove this, I will throw these flowers, which you dare to assert I ordered, from the window; with their strong odor they poison the air."
With a cruel hand, she gathered up the lovely roses, and hastened to the window. "Look, mademoiselle, these are the flowers which you undertook to prepare for my hair," said Amelia, with well-assumed scorn, as she threw the bouquet into the garden which surrounded the castle of Monbijou; "look, mademoiselle."
Suddenly the princess uttered a low cry, and looked, blushing painfully, into the garden. In her haste, she had not remarked that two gentlemen, at that moment, crossed the great court which led to the principal door of the castle; and the flowers which she had so scornfully rejected, had struck the younger and taller of the gentlemen exactly in the face. He stood completely amazed, and looked questioningly at the window from which this curious bomb had fallen. His companion, however, laughed aloud, and made a profound bow to the princess, who still stood, blushing and embarrassed, at the window.
"From this hour I believe in the legend of the Fairy of the Roses," said the elder of the two gentlemen, who was indeed no other than Baron Pollnitz. "Yes, princess, I believe fully, and I would not be at all astonished if your highness should at this moment flutter from the window in a chariot drawn by doves, and cast another shower of blossoms in the face of my friend."
The princess had found time to recover herself, and to remember the haughty part she was determined to play.
"I hope, baron," she said, sternly, "you will not allow yourself to suppose it was my purpose to throw those roses either to your companion or yourself? I wished only to get rid of them."
She shut the window rudely and noisily, and commanded her attendants to complete her toilet at once. She seated herself sternly before the glass, and ordered her French maid to cover her head with jewels and ribbons.
The two gentlemen still stood in the garden, in earnest conversation.
"This is assuredly an auspicious omen, my friend," said Pollnitz to the young officer, who was gazing musingly at the roses he held in his hand. He had raised his eyes from the flowers to the window at which the lovely form of the princess had, for a few moments, appeared.
"Alas!" said he, sighing, and gazing afar off; "she is so wonderfully beautiful—so lovely; and she is a princess!"
Pollnitz laughed heartily. "One might think that you regretted that fact! Listen to me, my young friend; stand no longer here, in a dream. Come, in place of entering the castle immediately, to pay our respects to the queen-mother, we will take a walk through the garden, that you may allay your raptures and recover your reason."
He took the arm of the young man, and drew him into a shady, private pathway.
"Now, my dear friend, listen to me, and lay to heart all that I say to you. Accident, or, if you prefer it, Fate brought us together. After all, it seems indeed more than an accident. I had just returned to Berlin, and was about to pay my respects to the queen- mother, when I met you, who at the same time seek an audience, in order to commend yourself to her royal protection. You bear a letter of commendation from my old friend, Count Lottum. All this, of course, excites my curiosity. I ask your name, and learn, to my astonishment, that you are young Von Trenck, the son of the woman who was my first love, and who made me most unhappy by not returning my passion. I assure you, it produces a singular sensation to meet so unexpectedly the son of a first love, whose father, alas! you have not the happiness to be. I feel already that I am prepared to love you as foolishly as I once loved your fair mother."
"I will not, like my mother, reject your vows," said the young officer, smiling, and extending his hand to Pollnitz.
"I hoped as much," said Pollnitz; "you shall find a fond father in me, and even to-day I will commence my parental duties. In the first place, what brings you here?"
"To make my fortune—to become a general, or field-marshal, if possible," said the young man, laughing.
"How old are you?"
"I am nineteen."
"You wear the uniform of an officer of the life-guard; the king has, therefore, already promoted you?"
"I was a cadet but eight days," said Trenck, proudly. "My step- father, Count Lottum, came with me from Dantzic, and presented me to the king. His majesty received me graciously, and remembered well that I had received, at the examination at Konigsberg, the first prize from his hand."
"Go on, go on," said Pollnitz; "you see I am all ear, and I must know your present position in order to be useful to you."
"The king, as I have said, received me graciously, even kindly; he made me a cadet in his cavalry corps, and three weeks after, I was summoned before him; he had heard something of my wonderful memory, and he wished to prove me."
"Well, how did you stand the proof?"
"I stood with the king at the window, and he called over to me quickly the names of fifty soldiers who were standing in the court below, pointing to each man as he called his name. I then repeated to him every name in the same succession, but backward."
"A wonderful memory, indeed," said Pollnitz, taking a pinch of Spanish snuff; "a terrible memory, which would make me shudder if I were your sweetheart!"
"And why?" said the young officer.
"Because you would hold ever in remembrance all her caprices and all her oaths, and one day, when she no longer loved you, she would be held to a strict account. Well, did the king subject you to further proof?"
"Yes; he gave me the material for two letters, which I dictated at the same time to his secretaries, one in French and one in Latin. He then commanded me to draw the plan of the Hare Meadow, and I did so."
"Was he pleased?"
"He made me cornet of the guard," said Trenck, modestly avoiding a more direct answer.
"I see you are in high favor: in three weeks you are promoted from cadet to lieutenant! quick advancement, which the king, no doubt, signalized by some other act of grace?"
"He sent me two horses from his stable, and when I came to thank him, he gave me a purse containing two hundred 'Fredericks.'"
Pollnitz gave a spring backward. "Thunder! you are indeed in favor! the king gives you presents! Ah, my young friend, I would protect you, but it seems you can patronize me. The king has never made me a present. And what do you desire to-day of the queen-mother?"
"As I am now a lieutenant, I belong to the court circle, and must take part in the court festivals. So the king commanded me to pay my respects to the queen-mother."
"Ah, the king ordered that?" said Pollnitz; "truly, young man, the king must destine you for great things—he overloads you with favors. You will make a glittering career, provided you are wise enough to escape the shoals and quicksands in your way. I can tell you, there will be adroit and willing hands ready to cast you down; those who are in favor at court have always bitter enemies."
"Yes, I am aware that I have enemies," said Trenck; "more than once I have already been charged with being a drunkard and a rioter; but the king, happily, only laughed at the accusations."
"He is really in high favor, and I would do well to secure his friendship," thought Pollnitz; "the king will also be pleased with me if I am kind to him." He held out his hand to the young officer, and said, with fatherly tenderness: "From this time onward, when your enemies shall please to attack you, they shall not find you alone; they will find me a friend ever at your side. You are the son of the only woman I ever loved—I will cherish you in my heart as my first-born!"
"And I receive you as my father with my whole heart," said Trenck; "be my father, my friend, and my counsellor."
"The court is a dangerous and slippery stage, upon which a young and inexperienced man may lightly slip, unless held up by a strong arm. Many will hate you because you are in favor, and the hate of many is like the sting of hornets: one sting is not fatal, but a general attack sometimes brings death. Make use, therefore, of your sunshine, and fix yourself strongly in an immovable position."
"The great question is, what shall be my first step to secure it?"
"How! you ask that question, and you are nineteen years old, six feet high, have a handsome face, a splendid figure, an old, renowned name, and are graciously received at court! Ah! youngster, I have seen many arrive at the highest honors and distinctions, who did not possess half your glittering qualities. If you use the right means at the right time, you cannot fail of success."
"What do you consider the best means?"
"The admiration and favor of women! You must gain the love of powerful and influential women. Oh, you are terrified, and your brow is clouded! perhaps, unhappily, you are already in love?"
"No!" said Frederick von Trenck, violently. "I have never been in love. I dare say more than that: I have never kissed the lips of a woman."
Pollnitz gazed at him with an expression of indescribable amazement. "How!" said he; "you are nineteen, and assert that you have never embraced a woman?" He gave a mocking and cynical laugh.
"Ordinary women have always excited my disgust," said the young officer, simply; "and until this day I have never seen a woman who resembled my ideal."
"So, then, the woman with whom you will now become enamored will receive your first tender vows?"
"Yes, even so."
"And you wear the uniform of the life-guard—you are a lieutenant!" cried Pollnitz with tragical pathos, and extending his arms toward heaven. "But how?—what did you say?—that until to-day you had seen no woman who approached your ideal?"
"I said that."
"And to-day—?"
"Well, it seems to me, we have both seen an angel to-day!—an angel, whom you have wronged, in giving her the common name of fairy."
"Aha! the Princess Amelia," said Pollnitz. "You will love this young maiden, my friend."
"Then, indeed, shall I be most unhappy! She is a royal princess, and my love must ever be unrequited."
"Who told you that? who told you that this little Amelia was only a princess? I tell you she is a young girl with a heart of fire. Try to awake her—she only sleeps! A happy event has already greeted you. The princess has fixed your enraptured gaze upon her lovely form, by throwing or rather shooting roses at you. Perhaps the god of Love has hidden his arrow in a rose. You thought Amelia had only pelted your cheek with roses, but the arrow has entered your soul. Try your luck, young man; gain the love of the king's favorite sister, and you will be all-powerful."
The young officer looked at him with confused and misty eyes.
"You do not dare to suggest," murmured he, "that—"
"I dare to say," cried Pollnitz, interrupting him, "that you are in favor with the brother; why may you not also gain the sister's good graces? I say further, that I will assist you, and I will ever be at your side, as a loving friend and a sagacious counsellor."
"Do you know, baron, that your wild words open a future to my view before which my brain and heart are reeling? How shall I dare to love a princess, and seek her love in return?"
"As to the first point, I think you have already dared. As to the second, I think your rare beauty and wondrous accomplishments might justify such pretensions."
"You know I never can become the husband of a princess."
"You are right," said Pollnitz, laughing aloud; "you are as innocent as a girl of sixteen! you have this moment fallen headlong in love, and begin at once to think of the possibility of marriage, as if love had no other refuge than marriage, and yet I think I have read that the god of Love and the god of Hymen are rarely seen together, though brothers; in point of fact, they despise and flee from each other. But after all, young man, if your love is virtuous and requires the priest's blessing, I think that is possible. Only a few years since the widowed margravine, the aunt of the king, married the Count Hoditz. What the king's aunt accomplished, might be possible to the king's sister."
"Silence, silence!" murmured Frederick von Trenck; "your wild words cloud my understanding like the breath of opium; they make me mad, drunk. You stand near me like the tempter, showing to my bewildered eyes more than all the treasures of this world, and saying, 'All these things will I give thee'; but alas! I am not the Messiah. I have not the courage to cast down and trample under foot your devilish temptations. My whole soul springs out to meet them, and shouts for joy. Oh, sir, what have you done? You have aroused my youth, my ambition, my passion; you have filled my veins with fire, and I am drunk with the sweet but deadly poison you have poured into my ears."
"I have assured you that I will be your father. I will lead you, and at the right moment I will point out the obstacles against which your inexperienced feet might stumble," said Pollnitz.
The stony-hearted and egotistical old courtier felt not the least pity for this poor young man into whose ear, as Trenck had well said, he was pouring this fatal poison. Frederick von Trenck, the favorite of the king, was nothing more to him than a ladder by which he hoped to mount. He took the arm of the young officer and endeavored to soothe him with cool and moderate words, exhorting him to be quiet and reasonable. They turned their steps toward the castle, in order to pay their respects to the queen-mother. The hour of audience was over, and the two gentlemen lounged arm in arm down the street.
"Let us go toward the palace," said Pollnitz. "I think we will behold a rare spectacle, a crowd of old wigs who have disguised themselves as savans. To-day, the first sitting of the Academy of Arts and Sciences takes place, and the celebrated President Maupertius will open the meeting in the name of the king. This is exactly the time for the renowned worthies to leave the castle. Let us go and witness this comical show."
The two gentlemen found it impossible to carry out their plans. A mighty crowd of men advanced upon them at this moment, and compelled them to stand still. Every face in the vast assemblage was expectant. Certainly some rare exhibition was to be seen in the circle which the crowd had left open in their midst. There were merry laughing and jesting and questioning amongst each other, as to what all this could mean, and what proclamation that could be which the drummer had just read in the palace garden.
"It will be repeated here in a moment," said a voice from the crowd, which increased every moment, and in whose fierce waves Pollnitz and Trenck were forcibly swallowed up. Pressed, pushed onward by powerful arms, resistance utterly in vain, the two companions found themselves at the same moment in the open space just as the drummer broke into the circle, and, playing his drumsticks with powerful and zealous hands, he called the crowd to order.
The drum overpowered the wild outcries and rude laughter of the vast assemblage, and soon silenced them completely. Every man held his breath to hear what the public crier, who had spoken so much to the purpose by his drum, had now to declare by word of mouth. He drew from his pocket a large document sealed with the state seal, and took advantage of the general quiet to read the formal introductory to all such proclamations: "We, Frederick, King of Prussia," etc., etc.
On coming to the throne, Frederick had abolished all that long and absurd list of titles and dignities which had heretofore adorned the royal declarations. Even that highest of all titles, "King by the grace of God," had Frederick the Second set aside. He declared that, in saying King of Prussia, all was said. His father had called himself King of Prussia, by the grace of God; he, therefore, would call himself simply the King of Prussia, and if he did not boast of God's grace, it was because he would prove by deeds, not words, that he possessed it.
After this little digression we will return to our drummer, who now began to read, or rather to cry out the command of the king.
"We, Frederick, King of Prussia, order and command that no one of our subjects shall, under any circumstances, lend gold to our master of ceremonies, whom we have again taken into our service, or assist him in any way to borrow money. Whoever, therefore, shall, in despite of this proclamation, lend money to said Baron Pollnitz, must bear the consequences; they shall make no demand for repayment, and the case shall not be considered in court. Whosoever shall disobey this command, shall pay a fine of fifty thalers, or suffer fifteen days' imprisonment."
A wild shout of laughter from the entire assembly was the reply to this proclamation, in which the worldly-wise Pollnitz joined heartily, while his young companion had not the courage to raise his eyes from the ground.
"The old courtier will burst with rage," said a gay voice from the crowd.
"He is a desperate borrower," cried another.
"He has richly deserved this public shame and humiliation from the king," said another.
"And you call this a humiliation, a merited punishment!" cried Pollnitz. "Why, my good friends, can you not see that this is an honor which the king shows to his old and faithful servant? Do you not know that by this proclamation he places Baron Pollnitz exactly on the same footing with the princes of the blood, with the prince royal?"
"How is that? explain that to us," cried a hundred voices in a breath.
"Well, it is very simple. Has not the king recently renewed the law which forbids, under pain of heavy punishment, the princes of the blood to borrow money? Is not this law printed in our journals, and made public in our collections of laws?"
"Yes, yes! so it is," said many voices simultaneously.
"Well, certainly, our exalted sovereign, who loves his royal brothers so warmly, would not have cast shame upon their honor. Certainly he would not have wished to humiliate them, and has not done so. The king, as you must now plainly perceive, has acted toward Baron Pollnitz precisely as he has done to his brothers."
"And that is, without doubt, a great honor for him," cried many voices. No one guessed the name of the speaker who was so fortunately at hand to defend the honor of the master of ceremonies. A general murmur of applause was heard, and even the public crier stood still and listened to the eloquent unknown speaker, and forgot for a while to hurry off to the next street-corner and proclaim the royal mandate.
"Besides, this law is 'sans consequence,' as we are accustomed to say," said Pollnitz. "Who would not, in spite of the law, lend our princes gold if they had need of it? And who has right to take offence if the state refuses to pay the debts which the princes make as private persons? The baron occupies precisely the same position. The king, who has honored the newly returned baron with two highly important trusts, master of ceremonies and master of the robes, will frighten his rather lavish old friend from making debts. He chooses, therefore, the same means by which he seeks to restrain his royal brothers, and forbids all persons to lend gold to Pollnitz: as he cannot well place this edict in the laws of the land, he is obliged to make it known by the drummer. And now," said the speaker, who saw plainly the favorable impression which his little oration had made— "and now, best of friends, I pray you to make way and allow me to pass through the crowd; I must go at once to the palace to thank his majesty for the special grace and distinction which he has showered upon me to-day. I, myself, am Baron Pollnitz!"
An outcry of amazement burst from the lips of hundreds, and all who stood near Pollnitz stepped aside reverentially, in order to give place to the distinguished gentleman who was treated by the king exactly as if he were a prince of the blood. Pollnitz stepped with a friendly smile through the narrow way thus opened for him, and greeted, with his cool, impertinent manner those who respectfully stood back.
"I think I have given the king a Roland for his Oliver," he said to himself. "I have broken the point from the arrow which was aimed at me, and it glanced from my bosom without wounding me. Public opinion will be on my side from this time, and that which was intended for my shame has crowned me with honor. It was, nevertheless, a harsh and cruel act, for which I will one day hold a reckoning with Frederick. Ah, King Frederick! King Frederick! I shall not forget, and I will have my revenge; my cards are also well arranged, and I hold important trumps. I will wait yet a little while upon our lovelorn shepherd, this innocent and tender Trenck, who is in a dangerous way about the little princess."
Pollnitz waited for Trenck, who had with difficulty forced his way through the crowd and hastened after him.
The ball at the palace was opened. The two queens and the princesses had just entered the great saloon, in order to receive the respectful greetings of the ladies of the court; while the king, in an adjoining room, was surrounded by the gentlemen. A glittering circle of lovely women, adorned with diamonds and other rich gems, stood on each side of the room, each one patiently awaiting the moment when the queens should pass before her, and she might have the honor of bowing almost to the earth under the glance of the royal eye.
According to etiquette, Queen Elizabeth Christine, who, notwithstanding her modest and retired existence, was the reigning sovereign, should have made the grand tour alone, and received the first congratulations of the court; but this unhappy, shrinking woman, had never found the courage to assume the rights or privileges which belonged to her as wife of the king. She who was denied the highest and holiest of all distinctions, the first place in the heart of her husband, cared nothing for these pitiful and outward advantages. Elizabeth had to-day, as usual, with a soft smile, given precedence to the queen-mother, Sophia Dorothea, who was ever thirsting to show that she held the first place at her son's court, and who, delighted to surround herself with all the accessories of pomp and power, was ever ready to use her prerogative. With a proud and erect head, and an almost contemptuous smile, she walked slowly around the circle of high-born dames, who bowed humbly before this representative of royalty. Behind her came the reigning queen, between the two princesses, who now and then gave special and cordial greetings to their personal friends as they passed, Elizabeth Christine saw this and sighed bitterly. She had no personal friend to grace with a loving greeting. No man saw any thing else in her than a sovereign by sufferance, a woman sans consequence, a, powerless queen and unbeloved wife. She had never had a friend into whose sympathetic and silent bosom she could pour out her griefs. She was alone, so entirely alone and lonely, that the heavy sighs and complaints dwelling in her heart were ever reverberating in her cars because of the surrounding silence. And now, as she made the grand tour with the two princesses, no one seemed to see her; she was regarded as the statue of a queen, richly dressed and decked with costly lace and jewels, but only a picture: yet this picture had a soul and a heart of fire—it was a woman, a wife, who loved and who endured.
Suddenly she trembled; a light, like the glory of sunshine, flashed in her eyes, and a soft rosy blush spread over her fair cheek. The king had entered the room; yes, he was there in all his beauty, his majesty, his power; Elizabeth felt that the world was bright, her blood was rushing madly through her veins, her heart was beating as stormily as that of an impassioned young girl. Oh, it might be that the eye of the king—that glowing, wondrous eye—might even by accident rest upon her; it might be that Frederick would be touched by her patient endurance, her silent resignation, and give her one friendly word. She had been four years a queen, for four years this title had been a crown of thorns; during all this weary time her husband had not vouchsafed to her poor heart, sick unto death, one single sympathetic word, one affectionate glance; he sat by her side at the table during the court festivals; he had from time to time, at the balls and masquerades, opened the dance with her; never, however, since that day on which he had printed the first kiss upon her lips, never had he spoken to her; since that moment she was to him the picture of a queen, the empty form of a woman. [Footnote: The king never spoke to his wife, but his manner toward her was considerate and respectful; no one dared to fail in the slightest mark of courtly observance toward Elizabeth—this the king sternly exacted. Only once did the king address her. During the seventh year of their marriage, the queen, by an unhappy accident, had seriously injured her foot: this was a short time before her birthday, which event was always celebrated with great pomp and ceremony, the king honoring the fete with his presence. On this occasion he came as usual, but in place of the distant and silent bow with which he usually greeted her, he drew near, gave her his hand, and said with kindly sympathy, "I sincerely hope that your majesty has recovered from your accident." A general surprise was pictured in the faces of all present—but the poor queen was so overcome by this unexpected happiness, she had no power to reply, she bowed silently. The king frowned and turned from her. Since that day, the happiness of which she had bought with an injured foot, the king had not spoken to her.] But Queen Elizabeth would not despair. Hope was her motto. A day might come when he would speak to her, when he would forget that she had been forced upon him as his wife, a day when his heart might be touched by her grief, her silent and tearless love. Every meeting with Frederick was to this poor queen a time of hope, of joyful expectation; this alone sustained her, this gave her strength silently, even smilingly, to draw her royal robe over her bleeding heart.
And now the king drew near, surrounded by the princesses and the queen-mother, to whom he gave his hand with an expression of reverence and filial love. He then bowed silently and indifferently to his wife, and gave a merry greeting to his two sisters.
"Ladies," said he, in a full, rich voice, "allow me to present to you and my court my brother, the Prince Augustus William; he is now placed before you in a new and more distinguished light." He took the hand of his brother and led him to the queen-mother. "I introduce your son to you; he will be from this day onward, if it so please you, also your grandson."
"How is that, your majesty? I confess you have brought about many seemingly impossible things; but I think it is beyond your power to make Augustus at the same time both my son and my grandson."
"Ah, mother, if I make him my son, will he not be of necessity, your grandson? I appoint him my successor; in so doing, I declare him my son. Embrace him, therefore, your majesty, and be the first to greet him by his new title. Embrace the Prince of Prussia, my successor."
"I obey," said the queen, "I obey," and she cast her arms affectionately around her son. "I pray God that this title of 'Prince of Prussia,' which it has pleased your majesty to lend him, may be long and honorably worn."
The prince bowed low before his mother, who tenderly kissed his brow, then whispered, "Oh, mother, pray rather that God may soon release me from this burden."
"How!" cried the queen threateningly, "you have then a strong desire to be king? Has your vaulting ambition made you forget that to wish to be king is, at the same time, to wish the death of your brother?"
The prince smiled sadly.
"Mother, I would lay aside this rank of Prince of Prussia, not because I wish to mount the throne, but I would fain lie down in the cold and quiet grave."
"Are you always so sad, so hopeless, my son—even now, upon this day of proud distinction for you? To-day you take your place as Prince of Prussia."
"Yes, your majesty, to-day I am crowned with honor," said he, bitterly. "This is also the anniversary of my betrothal."
Augustus turned and drew near to the king, who seized his hand and led him to his wife and the young princesses, saying with a loud voice, "Congratulate the Prince of Prussia, ladies." He then beckoned to some of his generals, and drew back with them to the window. As he passed the queen, his eye rested upon her for a moment with an expression of sympathy and curiosity; he observed her with the searching glance of a physician, who sinks the probe into the bleeding wound, in order to know its depth and danger.
The queen understood his purpose. That piercing glance was a warning; it gave her courage, self-possession, and proud resignation. Her husband had spoken to her with his eyes; that must ever be a consolation, a painful but sweet joy. She controlled herself so far as to give her hand to the prince with a cordial smile.
"You are most welcome in your double character," she said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the king and all around her. "Until to-day, you have been my beloved brother; and from this time will you be to me, as also to my husband, a dear son. By the decrees of Providence a son has been denied me; I accept you, therefore, joyfully, and receive you as my son and brother."
A profound silence followed these words; here and there in the crowd, slight and derisive smiles were seen, and a few whispered and significant words were uttered. The queen had now received the last and severest blow; in the fulness and maturity of her beauty she had been placed before the court as unworthy or incapable of giving a successor to the throne; but she still wished to save appearances: she would, if possible, make the world believe that the decree of Providence alone denied to her a mother's honors. She had the cruel courage to conceal the truth by prevarication.
The watchful eyes of the court had long since discovered the mystery of this royal marriage: they had long known that the queen was not the wife of Frederick; her words, therefore, produced contemptuous surprise.
Elizabeth cared for none of these things. She looked toward her husband, whose eyes were fixed upon her; she would read in his countenance if he were pleased with her words. A smile played upon the lips of the king, and he bowed his head almost imperceptibly as a greeting to his wife.
A golden ray of sunlight seemed to play upon her face; content was written in her eyes; twice to-day her glance had met her husband's, and both times his eyes had spoken. Elizabeth was happier than she had been for many days; she laughed and jested with the ladies, and conversed gayly over the great event of the evening—the first appearance of the Signora Barbarina. The princesses, also, conversed unceremoniously with the ladies near them. A cloud darkened the usually clear brow of the Princess Amelia, and she seemed to be in a nervous and highly excited state.
At this moment the master of ceremonies, Pollnitz, drew near, with Count Tessin, the Swedish ambassador. The princess immediately assumed so scornful an expression, that even Pollnitz scarcely found courage to present Count Tessin.
"Ah! you come from Sweden," said Amelia, immediately after the presentation. "Sweden is a dark and gloomy country, and you have indeed done well to save yourself, by taking refuge in our gay and sunny clime."
The count was evidently wounded.
"Your royal highness calls this a refuge," said he; "you must, then, think those to be pitied who dwell in my fatherland?"
"I do not feel it necessary to confide my views on that subject toCount Tessin," said Amelia, with a short, rude laugh.
"Yes, sister, it is necessary," said Ulrica, with a magical smile, "you must justify yourself to the count, for you have cast contempt upon his country."
"Ah! your highness is pleased to think better of my fatherland," said Tessin, bowing low to Ulrica. "It is true, Sweden is rich in beauty, and nowhere is nature more romantic or more lovely. The Swedes love their country passionately, and, like the Swiss, they die of homesickness when banished from her borders. They languish and pine away if one is cruel enough to think lightly of their birth-place."
"Well, sir, I commit this cruelty," cried Amelia, "and yet I scarcely think you will languish and pine away on that account."
"Dear sister, I think you are out of temper to-day," said Ulrica, softly.
"And you are wise to remind me of it in this courtly style," said Amelia; "have you taken the role of governess for my benefit to- day?"
Ulrica shrugged her shoulders and turned again to the count, who was watching the young Amelia with a mixture of astonishment and anger. She had been represented at the Swedish court as a model of gentleness, amiability, and grace; he found her rude and contradictory, fitful and childish. The Princess Ulrica soon led the thoughts of the count in another direction, and managed to retain him at her side by her piquant and intellectual conversation; she brought every power of her mind into action; she was gracious in the extreme; she overcame her proud nature, and assumed a winning gentleness; in short, she flattered the ambassador with such delicate refinement, that he swallowed the magical food offered to his vanity, without suspecting that he was victimized.
Neither the princess nor the count seemed any longer to remember Amelia, who still stood near them with a lowering visage. Pollnitz made use of this opportunity to draw near with his young protege, Frederick von Trenck, and present him to the princess, who immediately assumed a gay and laughing expression; she wished to give the ambassador a new proof of her stormy and fitful nature: she would humble him by proving that she was not harsh and rude to all the world. She received the two gentlemen, therefore, with great cordiality, and laughed heartily over the adventure of the morning; she recounted to them, merrily and wittily, how and why she had thrown the sweet roses away. Amelia was now so lovely and so spirited to look upon, so radiant with youth, animation, and innocence, that the eyes of the poor young officer were dazzled and sought the floor; completely intoxicated and bewildered, he could not join in the conversation, uttering here and there only a trembling monosyllable.
This did not escape the cunning eye of the master of ceremonies. "I must withdraw," thought he; "I will grant them a first tete-a-tete. I will observe them from a distance, and be able to decide if my plan will succeed." Excusing himself upon the plea of duty, Pollnitz withdrew; he glided into a window and concealed himself behind the curtains, in order to watch the countenances of his two victims. Pollnitz had rightly judged. The necessity of taking part in the conversation with the princess restored to the young officer his intellect and his courage, and, in the effort to overcome his timidity, he became too earnest, too impassioned.
But the princess did not remark this; she rejoiced in an opportunity to show the Swedish ambassador how amiable and gracious she could be to others, and thus make him more sensible of her rudeness to himself; he should see and confess that she could be winning and attractive when it suited her purpose. The count observed her narrowly, even while conversing with Ulrica; he saw her ready smile, her beaming eye, her perhaps rather demonstrative cordiality to the young officer. "She is changeable and coquettish," he said to himself, while still carrying on his conversation with the talented, refined, and thoroughly maidenly Princess Ulrica.
The great and, as we have said, somewhat too strongly marked kindliness of Amelia, added fuel to the passion of Trenck; he became more daring.
"I have to implore your highness for a special grace," said he in a suppressed voice.
"Speak on," said she, feeling at that moment an inexplicable emotion which made her heart beat high, and banished the blood from her cheeks.
"I have dared to preserve one of the roses which you threw into the garden. It was a mad theft, I know it, but I was under the power of enchantment; I could not resist, and would at that moment have paid for the little blossom with my heart's blood. Oh, if your royal highness could have seen, when I entered my room and closed the door, with what rapture I regarded my treasure, how I knelt before it and worshipped it, scarcely daring to touch it with my lips! it recalled to me a lovely fairy tale of my childhood."
"How could a simple rose recall a fairy tale?" said Amelia.
"It is a legend of a poor shepherd-boy, who, lonely and neglected, had fallen asleep under a tree near the highway. Before sleeping, he had prayed to God to have pity upon him; to fill this great and painful void in his heart, or to send His Minister, Death, to his release. While sleeping he had a beautiful dream. He thought he saw the heavens open, and an angel of enchanting grace and beauty floated toward him. Her eyes glowed like two of the brightest stars. 'You shall be no longer lonely,' she whispered; 'my image shall abide ever in your heart, and strengthen and stimulate you to all things good and beautiful.' While saying this, she laid a wondrous rose upon his eyes, and, floating off, soon disappeared in the clouds. The poor shepherd-boy awoke, and was enraptured with what he supposed had been a wild dream. But lo! there was the rose, and with unspeakable joy he pressed it to his heart. He thanked God for this sweet flower, which proved to him that the angel was no dream, but a reality. The rose, the visible emblem of his good angel, was the joy and comfort of his life, and he wore it ever in his heart.—I thought of this fairy tale, princess, as I looked upon my rose, but I felt immediately that I dared not call it mine without the consent of your highness. Decide, therefore; dare I keep this rose?"
Amelia did not reply. She had listened with a strange embarrassment to this impassioned tale. The world—all, was forgotten; she was no longer a princess, she was but a simple young girl, who listened for the first time to words of burning passion, and whose heart trembled with sweet alarm.
"Princess, dare I guard this rose?" repeated Frederick, with a trembling voice.
She looked at him; their eyes met; the young maiden trembled, but the man stood erect. He felt strong, proud, and a conqueror; his glance was like the eagle's, when about to seize a lamb and bear it to his eyrie.
"He goes too far; truly, he goes too far," whispered Pollnitz, who had seen all, and from their glances and movements had almost read their thoughts and words. "I must bring this tete-a-tete to an end, and I shall do so in a profitable manner."
"Dare I keep this rose?" said Frederick von Trenck, a third time.
Amelia turned her head aside and whispered, "Keep it."
Trenck would have answered, but in that moment a hand was laid upon his arm, and Pollnitz stood near him.
"Prudence," whispered he, anxiously. "Do you not see that you are observed? You will make of your insane and treasonable passion a fairy tale for the whole court."
Amelia uttered a slight cry, and looked anxiously at Pollnitz. She had heard his whispered words, and the sly baron intended that she should.
"Will your royal highness dismiss this madman," whispered he, "and allow me to awake his sleeping reason?"
"Go, Herr von Trenck," said she lightly.
Pollnitz took the arm of the young officer and led him off, saying to himself, with a chuckle: "That was a good stroke, and I feel that I shall succeed; I have betrayed his passion to her, and forced myself into their confidence. I shall soon be employed as Love's messenger, and that is ever with princesses a profitable service. Ah, King Frederick, King Frederick, you have made it impossible for me to borrow money! Well, I shall not find that necessary; my hands shall be filled from the royal treasures. When the casket of the princess is empty, the king must of course replenish it." And the baron laughed too loudly for a master of ceremonies.