ust at least have one laurel-wreath
upon my coffin. May death then strike me at his will--the sooner the
better, before my heart has become perfectly hardened! And I feel that
time is not far distant."

The curtain of his tent was at this moment drawn back, and his
secretary, Le Catt, whose acquaintance he had made during his visit to
Amsterdam, entered with several letters in his hand. The king advanced
eagerly to meet him.

"Well, Le Catt," said he, "has the courier come from Berlin?"

"Yes, sire, he has come," said Le Catt, sighing, "but I fear he brings
no good news."

"No good news? Has the enemy forced his way so far?"

"An enemy has, sire; but not the one your majesty is thinking of!"

"How know you what enemy I mean?" said the king, impatiently. "Is it the
Russians, or the French?"

"None of your mortal enemies, sire; and the mourning which now reigns in
Berlin and will soon reign throughout Prussia, is caused by no enemy of
your majesty but by Providence."

The king looked at him earnestly for a moment. "I understand," said he.
"Some one of my family has died; is it not so?"

"Yes, sire; your--"

"Be still!" said the king, sternly. "I do not yet wish to know--I have
not the strength to bear it--wait a while."

Folding his hands upon his breast, he paced up and down his tent several
times, laboring hard for breath. He stood still, and leaning against the
window, said: "Now, Le Catt, I can endure any thing; speak--who is it?"

"Sire, it is her majesty."

"My wife?" interrupted the king.

"No, sire; her majesty--"

"My mother!" cried the king, in a heart-broken voice. "My mother!"

He stood thus for a while, with his hands before his face, his form
bowed down and trembling like an oak swayed by a storm. Tears escaped
through his hands and fell slowly to the ground--groans of agony were
wrung from him.

Le Catt could stand it no longer; he approached the king and ventured to
say a few consoling words.

"Do not seek to comfort me," said the king; "you do not know what
inexpressible pain this loss has caused me."

"Yes, sire, I well know," said Le Catt, "for the queen-mother was
the noblest, most gracious princess that ever lived. I can therefore
understand your sorrow."

"No, you cannot," said the king, raising his pale, tearful countenance.
"You carry your sorrow upon your lips--I upon my heart. The queen was
the best of women, and my whole land may well mourn for her. It will not
be forc