ll."

"We will not make our parting more hard by sweet words," said Prince
Henry, emphasizing the last words. "Bid adieu to my wife, kiss her hand,
and then God be with you!"

The princess, muttering a few incomprehensible words, gave him her hand,
white and colorless as that of a corpse. Count Kalkreuth touched his
lips to it, and they were so cold that the princess shuddered as if she
had been embraced by death itself.

It was their last meeting!--a cold, formal farewell for life. The count
now turned to the prince, who gave him his hand smilingly.

"Farewell, count," said he. Stooping to embrace him, he whispered in his
ear: "You once saved my life, we are now quits, for you have murdered my
heart. Farewell!"

He turned from him. The count, no longer able to suppress his tears,
covered his face with his hands and tottered from the room.

A few hours later he stood in the king's ante-chamber at Sans-Souci. He
had just been announced. He waited long--no one came to conduct him to
the king; every door remained closed, every thing around him was dull
and deserted. It was dark; the sharp April wind was beating against the
window and howling through the chimney. The count's conscience was busy
at work in this gloomy chamber. He could endure it no longer, and was
preparing to leave, when the door was opened, and an adjutant entered to
conduct him to the king's apartments.

The king was in his sitting-room. As Count Kalkreuth entered, he laid
aside the book he had been reading, and rose. In a stern, imperious
manner he advanced to meet him.

"As my brother desired it, I have appointed you lieutenant-general
of the third army corps," said he, harshly. "You leave at once for
Konigsberg--you know your duties. Go, and endeavor to fulfil them."

"Sire!" said the count, softly.

"Go! not another word!"

Count Kalkreuth, almost unable to make the military salute, left the
room, stifling his anger.

The king looked after him thoughtfully. "Poor Henry!" murmured he,
softly, "had you also to receive the Judas-kiss from a friend? Poor
brother! you were so happy--why did cruel fate disenchant you? There is
much in being happy in your own estimation--there is upon the earth no
other sort of happiness; and whether true or false, the peace it brings
is alike. I, I am so poor that I no longer believe in the one or the
other. And still men envy me! Envy a poor, disenchanted, solitary
man--envy him because he wears a crown! Wha