ot even appear to hear
the shouts of his subjects. Not once did he raise his hand to greet
them--not a word passed his lips.
When they crossed the king's bridge and reached the castle grounds, the
people were assembled and closely crowded together. Frederick now raised
himself, but he did not see them--he did not regard the brilliantly
illuminated houses, or the grounds sparkling in a flood of light. He
turned slowly and sadly toward the castle--his eye rested upon that
dark, gloomy mass of stone, which arose to the right, and contrasted
mysteriously with the brilliant houses around it. It looked like a
monstrous coffin surrounded by death-lights. Frederick gazed long and
steadily at the castle. He raised his head once more, but not to greet
his subjects. He covered his face--he would not be looked at in his
grief. D'Argens heard him murmur, "My mother, oh my mother! Oh, my
sister!"
The Prussians welcomed joyously the return of their great king,
but Frederick thought only at this moment of those who could never
return--those whom death had torn from him forever. Onward, onward
through the lighted streets! All the inhabitants of Berlin seemed to be
abroad. This was a Roman triumph, well calculated to fill the heart of a
sovereign with just pride.
The Berliners did not see that Frederick had no glance for them. Gloom
and despair veiled his countenance, and no one dreamed that this king,
whom they delighted to honor, was at this proud moment a weeping son, a
mourning brother.
At last the joyous, careless city lay behind them, and they approached
Charlottenburg.
The noise and tumult gradually ceased, and a welcome quiet ensued.
Frederick did not utter one word, and no one dared to break the
oppressive silence. This triumphant procession seemed changed to a
burial-march. The victor in so many battles seemed now mastered by his
memories.
The carriage drew up at Charlottenburg. The wide court was filled
with the inhabitants of the little city, who welcomed the king as
enthusiastically as the Berliners had done. Frederick saluted them
abruptly, and stepped quickly into the hall.
The castle had been changed into a temple of glory and beauty in honor
of the king's return. The pillars which supported it were wound around
with wreaths of lovely, fragrant blossoms; costly draperies, gay flags,
and emblems adorned the walls; the floors were covered with rich Turkish
carpets; the gilded candelabras shed their variegat
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