ed by the mayors
and senators, who were marching to greet the King of Prussia. They never
dreamed that he had just passed mischievously by them.

Two days later, the king and his companions stood on the Prussian
border, on the spot where, in the beginning of their journey, the king
had written the words "majesty" and "sire."

"Look!" he said, pointing to the ground, "the two fatal words have
not vanished away; the sun has hardened the ground, and they are still
legible. I must lift them from the sand, and wear them henceforth and
forever. Give me your hand, Balby; the poor musician, Frederick Zoller,
will bid farewell to his friend, and not only to you, Balby, but
farewell also to my youth. This is my last youthful adventure. Now, I
shall grow old and cold gracefully. One thing I wish to say before I
resume my royalty; confidentially, I am not entirely displeased with the
change. It seems to me difficult to fill the role of a common man. Men
do not seem to love and trust each other fully; a man avenges himself
on an innocent party for the wrongs another has committed. Besides, I do
not rightly understand the politenesses of common life, and, therefore,
received many reproaches. I believe, on the whole, it is easier to
bestow than to receive them. Therefore, I take up my crown willingly."

"Will your majesty allow me a word?" said Deesen, stepping forward.

"Speak, Deesen."

"I thank Mr. Zoller for saving my life. As true as God lives, I should
have stifled with rage if I had not told that haughty Hollander who Mr.
Zoller was and who I was."

"Now, forward! Farewell, Frederick Zoller! Now I am on Prussian soil,
the hour of thoughtless happiness is passed. I fear, Balby, that the
solemn duties of life will soon take possession of us. So be it! I
accept my destiny--I am again Frederick of Hohenzollern!"

"And I have the honor to be the first to greet your majesty on your own
domain," said Balby, as he bowed profoundly before the king.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I. THE UNHAPPY NEWS.

The Princess Amelia was alone in her room. She was stretched upon a
sofa, lost in deep thought; her eyes were raised to heaven, and her
lips trembled; from time to time they murmured a word of complaint or of
entreaty.

Amelia was ill. She had been ill since that unhappy day in which
she intentionally destroyed her beauty to save herself from a hated
marriage.[Footnote: See "Berlin and Sans-Souci."] Her eyes had never
recovere