! I am a poor, tormented
woman! I ask nothing of Thee but death! Wilt Thou refuse me this only
wish?" She sank on her knees, her arms and eyes still raised toward
heaven, as if she expected that her prayer would be granted. She slowly
dropped her arms, and hung her head with a groan. Madame von Berg, in
tears and with folded hands, was praying in a low voice.

A long pause ensued. The queen rose from her knees; her face was calm
and her tears had gone! but around her eyes a quiver was still seen,
and at times a sigh escaped her breast. "It is over now," she said in a
low voice, "the struggle is over! Pardon my impassioned grief, Caroline;
my poor heart sometimes refuses to submit to the bridle of affliction.
But I must be docile and patient, and learn to obey without a murmur."

There was something so touching in the tone and manner in which the
queen uttered these words, in the glance with which she gave her hand to
her friend, that Madame von Berg was unable to conceal her tears. She
took Louisa's hand and pressed it to her lips.

"Do not weep, Caroline," said the queen. "I have paid my tribute to
human nature; I have wept, but now I will be strong and do my duty.
Stand by me, and console me by your calmness and fortitude. I must set
out in an hour; let us reflect, therefore, what preparations ought to be
made."

"Then you will really go, your majesty?" asked Madame von Berg, sadly.

"Majesty!" ejaculated the queen, almost indignantly. "Is this reverence
intended to deride me? Where is my majesty?"

"In your sovereign eyes, Louisa," said Madame von Berg--"in your great
and noble heart, which masters its grief and submits to duty. It beams
gloriously around your head, which, though it may bow to your adversary,
will never be humbled by him. But, consider, are you not about to impose
upon yourself, in your generous devotedness, a sacrifice which is
greater, it may be, than the reward? Napoleon is not a magnanimous man;
he lacks true chivalry, and he would delight, perhaps, to scorn the
august lady who humbles herself so painfully, and who thereby affords
him a triumph. There is a voice in my heart, warning me against this
plan; it is repugnant to my womanly feelings that my noble queen is
suddenly to descend into the petty affairs of politics. I am afraid your
beauty, your understanding, your grace, are to be abused to fascinate
your enemy, and to wrest from him by persuasion what is the sacred right
and property