or weep with her. Louisa did not
hear her come; she was still absorbed in grief; only incoherent
lamentations fell from her lips, and her tears fell on the letter lying
in her lap. Madame von Berg knelt, and implored her with the eloquence
of devotedness and affection to let her share her queen's grief--to tell
her what new calamity had occurred.

Louisa looked with sorrowful eyes at the friend kneeling before her.
"You ask me what calamity has befallen me! Read and know!" she said,
handing the letter to her lady of honor, and, at the same time, raising
her from her knees.

While Madame von Berg was reading, the queen rose; and with her head
thrown back, and her eyes turned upward, she commenced slowly pacing the
room. "Well?" she asked, when Madame von Berg, with a deep sigh, had
laid the letter on the table. "Did you read it? And do you comprehend my
grief now?"

"I do, your majesty," she said, mournfully.

"Caroline," exclaimed the queen, in an outburst of despair, "I am to bow
to this man, who has insulted me so infamously! I am to step like a
beggar before him who has slandered my honor before the whole world, who
has crushed my heart, and wounded my soul in such a manner that it can
never, never recover! I tell you, he will be the cause of my death! On
the day when I read those calumnies which he contrived to have printed
about me--on that day I felt a pang in my heart as if a dagger had been
plunged into it! Ah, would I could die this hour, before sinking into
this new humiliation! Ah, my soul is willing to bow to the great, the
beautiful, the sublime--but not to him--not to that proud man who is
trampling mankind in the dust; who has rendered King Frederick William
so wretched, robbing him of his states and of his majesty, slandering
his queen, and oppressing his people. Caroline, think of it! I am to
meet politely him who has robbed my children of their inheritance, and
caused me so many sleepless nights, so many tears, so many pangs! With a
smile I am to conceal my anguish; and, under a magnificent costume, my
wounded heart! As it behooves every lady, though no queen, I am not to
wait for him to come to me, but I am to go to him! I am to force my
visit on him--I am to court his favor! Ah, it is too much--too cruel!"

Raising her arms impetuously to heaven, she exclaimed in the energy of
her grief, "Wilt Thou have no mercy upon me, my God? Ah, let me die! Let
me die, to escape this new disgrace menacing me