y glanced
at them, and then laying them on the table, took from one of its drawers
other papers. "See, Louisa," he said in his blunt, dry manner, "these
are the same numbers of the _Telegraph_; I have already had them for a
week, and read every word of them."

The queen unfolded them. "It is true," she said, shuddering; "they are
the same papers; I read there again the terrible words, 'Queen Louisa
insists on continuing the alliance with Russia, only because her heart
has formed an alliance with the fine-looking Emperor Alexander, and
because she is passionately enamoured of him.' Oh, my husband, these
words have engraved themselves as a stigma on my forehead, and should
your eyes behold it also, let me expunge it by sacrificing my life. Tell
me the truth, Frederick! Have I deserved it--have I ever sinned by a
word--nay, by a look? I have often thought and said, that there is a
vestige of truth at the bottom of every rumor--that it may be greatly
exaggerated, but cannot be entirely false. Is there any foundation
whatever for this slander? Consider well, my husband, and if you should
find that I have sinned by a gesture, by a smile, banish me from your
presence. Tell me that I am unworthy of being called your wife; tear the
bonds of friendship that unite you with the Emperor Alexander, and
oppose him as an enemy, menacing and demanding satisfaction. There must
be no stain on your honor, and if you believe the statements of these
papers, show to the world that you will punish the faithless wife and
spurn the treacherous friend!"

The king put his hands on the glowing cheeks of his wife, and, raising
her head, gazed at her with a long and tender look. "Your friends had no
mercy on you, then?" he asked. "They had to inform you pitilessly of
what I wished so anxiously to conceal from you? I would willingly have
cut off my right hand if I could have expunged with the blood trickling
from the wound those lies from the public mind. But the world has now as
little mercy on us as fate. Affliction has hitherto surrounded your
beauty with the glory of a martyr; but mean men have been instigated to
make you a penitent sinner--a Magdalen of the martyr."

"My beloved Frederick," cried the queen, "you evade my question; you do
not reply to me! Tell me the truth. Do you believe in me? Or do you deem
me guilty?"

At this moment a low rap at the door interrupted them. The king
listened, and then turned smilingly to his wife. "It is Mi