r assistance. Tell him that his queen prays Heaven to
restore to her country the man who is a defence against wrong and
injustice, and one of the noblest sons of Germany.'"

Baron von Stein cast down his eyes; his lips were trembling; and tears
rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"Your excellency," said M. von Schladen, urgently, "will you not read
the letters? That from the Princess Louisa von Radziwill will give you a
more graphic description of the present situation of the court than I am
able to do; the one from Minister von Hardenberg will tell you what to
do, and how important and necessary it is that you should come as
speedily as possible. In Hardenberg's letter you will also find a brief
note from General Bluecher, who joins in these solicitations. I have been
permitted to read these letters, that, if they were lost on the way, I
should, nevertheless, be able to communicate their contents to you. Will
you not read them?"

"Yes," said Baron von Stein, breathing more freely, "I will read them.
They are the first doves that, after the long deluge of affliction, come
to me with an olive-branch of peace. I will see what the letters
contain." He hastily opened that from the Princess Louisa and commenced
reading it. But the paper soon dropped from his hand; a death-like
pallor overspread his cheeks, and, almost fainting, he fell back on the
pillow. "Alas," he murmured mournfully, "I forget that I am a poor, sick
man! I cannot read; the letters swim before my eyes!" But this faintness
lasted only a moment; Stein then raised his head again, and turned his
eyes with a tender expression toward his wife, who was sitting at his
bedside, and watching all his movements with anxious suspense. "Dear
Wilhelmina," he said, "you have been my secretary during the last few
weeks, and have rendered evil tidings less disagreeable to me; will you
not read these cheering letters to me?"

The baroness bent over him, and, in place of a reply, kissed his
forehead. She then read as follows:

"Your friend Hardenberg and the newspapers will have informed you of the
melancholy end of all our hopes. Cowardice and weakness, perhaps more
than the luck of our enemies, have subjugated us, and Hardenberg's
resignation, which he tendered voluntarily, in order to be useful to us
even by this sacrifice, and to preserve the king from the humiliation of
dismissing him, causes us to feel our yoke painfully. I promised to
write to you about the king. He d