have done more prejudicial to you?" he cried, not a little
irritated.

"Surely you could not injure or grieve me more, and therefore I am not
a little surprised that the pious Fathers could so carelessly word their
oaths. You have sworn to renounce your affection to and separate from
Wilhelmine Enke; so it follows that the Invisibles only demand that you
give up my name, not myself, and that is easily changed, and my dear
prince will not become a perjurer."

"I do not quite understand you; but I perceive by the arch expression
of your face that you have conceived a lucky escape for your unhappy
Frederick William. Explain to me, dearest, your meaning."

"I must change my name by marrying some one!" she whispered.

"Marry! and I give you to another? I will never consent to that," he
cried, alarmed.

"Not to a husband, only a name," said she. "These Rosicrucians are such
extraordinarily virtuous and pure beings, loving you so infinitely and
disinterestedly, that it grieves them that my love for you does not shun
the light, and throw over itself the mantle of hypocritical virtue!
We will yield to the zealous purity of the Rosicrucians," continued
Wilhelmine, her eyes sparkling, "and wrap this Wilhelmine Enke in a
mantle of virtue by giving her a husband; and then, when she walks out
with her children the passers-by will not have to blush with shame,
and cry, 'There goes the miss with her children!' I have conceived and
planned during this long and painful separation, and I am resolved to
submit humbly to the pious Fathers, who are so zealously watchful for
the salvation of your soul and my good fame."

"That is to say, you are determined to snap your fingers at them!
Your plan is a good one, but you will find no one to aid you in a sham
marriage!"

"I have already found one," whispered Wilhelmine, smiling. "Your valet
de chambre Rietz is willing to stand with me in a sham marriage."

"My body-servant!"

"Yes, Frederick William! You will confess that I am not ambitious, and
only consent to it to secure our happiness from the persecution of
these virtuous men. Here is the contract," said she, drawing from her
dress-pocket a paper, which she unfolded. "He promises to give me his
name, and regard me as a stranger always, for the sum of four hundred
thalers annually, with the promise of promotion to confidential
servant when the noble crown prince shall ascend the throne. [Footnote:
Historical.--See F. Forster, "Lates