ays, and I am glad that I am able again to assist my adored queen in
her troubles."

She shook her head mournfully. "I do not believe in the possibility of
any alleviation or change. We have suffered great misfortunes, and
greater may befall us. Since the days of Jena and Auerstadt our sorrows
have increased. We are constantly experiencing some new humiliation;
even the treaty of Tilsit is not the climax of our calamities. They come
as an avalanche, and sometimes I wish to be buried beneath them."

"Then the last ray of hope for Prussia would disappear," said Stein.
"If your majesty desert us, we are irretrievably lost, for your life,
your courage, and your spirit, are the support of your husband. Without
Louisa, Prussia and her king would perish."

"Oh, it is true he loves me," cheerfully exclaimed the queen. "The king
treats me more affectionately than ever. And that is great happiness
after a wedded life of fourteen years! I will be grateful to him as long
as I live, and to Prussia for loving me. But, alas! I have no other
thanks for them than my devotion and my prayers!"

"You have still your courage and a strong hope in the future of your
country. You must animate the desponding and strengthen the weak. Let
that be your majesty's great and holy duty."

"You are right, I must not despair," responded the queen, "and I thank
you for having admonished me. Oh, it is sometimes very difficult to bear
such disasters, and I feel that my health is giving way more and more.
And tell me where am I to look for consolation? The storm is upon us,
and where shall we find a refuge? How shall we escape the thunderbolt?"

"In our hopes for a more glorious future," said Stein, energetically.

"Future!" exclaimed Louisa. "There is no future without independence,
and where is that to be found to-day? All are slaves and bow in the most
abject humility to a master who, in his turn, is but the slave of his
own boundless ambition and arrogance, and, alas! there is no man living
who would dare to set bounds to them! Do you know how disdainfully our
envoy, M. von Knobelsdorf, was treated? He was utterly unable to prefer
his remonstrances and prayers that Prussia might be protected from
further extortion, and that the French armies might be withdrawn.
Napoleon received him but once, and then, as it were, accidentally. The
Prince of Baden and Cambaceres were in the room, and our ambassador was
no more noticed than a crumb of bread. The em