Frederick the Great and His Fam

ife and contest, neither the king nor the prince had returned to Berlin. Like the king, he also had won for himself fame and glory upon th

masterly manner in which Prince Henry managed to unite his forces with those of his brother after the battle of Kunersdorf, the king owed his escape from the enemies which then surrounded him. And to the great and glorious victory gained by Prince Henry over the troops of the empire and of Austria at Freiberg, the p

er's side as an equal. Frederick saw it without envy or bitterness, and rejoiced in the fulness of his great soul, in his brother's fame. When he found himself, for the first time a

amongst us all who did not commi

d some pretext for remaining at Rheinsberg. His proud soul could not endure the thought that the woman he loved, who appeared to him fit to grace the first throne of the world, would occupy an inferior position at court-would have to stand behind the queen. He had never envied the

welcome the prince to his home. The saloons and halls were brilliantly lighted, and in them a gay, merry crowd wa

the approaching hour-it was the Princess Wilhelmina. She was gorgeously dressed; diamonds glittered on her brow and throat, bright roses gleamed upon her breast, and

contemptuously put aside the timid heart that was then prepared to love him. This stranger she was now to meet with every sign of love, because he had one day waked up to the conviction that the heart he had once spurned was worthy of him. It was her duty now to return this love-to consecrate the rich treasures of her heart to

happiness of girlhood; her heart had beat with a power, a fire condemne

me far distant valley, and there to live alone and unknown, by the side of her lover, where no etiquette would disturb their happiness-where she would be free as the birds of the air, as careless as the flowers of the field. But these wild dreams vanished when the cold, cruel reality appeared to her. By the side of the once loving woman stood again the princess, who could not surrender the splendor and magnificence by which she was surrounded. She had not the courage nor the wish to descend from her height to the daily life of common mortals. There was dissension in her soul between the high-born princess and the loving, passionate woman. She was capable of making any and every sacrifice for her love, but she had never openly confessed this l

she had sought to drive for a moment from her face the gay smile and to breathe out the sighs that were almost rending her heart. She was

me the sinful thoughts that fill my heart. Make me to

ay smiles and joyous faces. At the door stood the prince her husband. He advanced eagerly to her side, and igno

demonstration of his tenderness would perhaps have pleased and surely been forgiven by her. As it was, she took his e

more, that he did not notice her embarrassed silence, her st

in the least improved by his long campaign-that they were somewhat brusque. He took her hand tenderly; leading her to a divan,

if it is true, Kalkreuth deserves the largest share, for he was the gardener who tended my laurels with wise and prudent hands. I commend him, theref

that Count Kalkreuth, deeply touched, thought in his heart for a moment th

the prince to speak with such confidence of her affection as of a thing impossible to lose. She determined, therefore, to punish him. With a bright smile, she held out her hand to the count, and said to him a few kind words of welcome. How she had trembled at the thought of this meeting-how she had blushed at th

ed the pressure of his hand, and, as he raised his head and fixed an almost im

repared for them-which was to them an inimitable jest, an excellent amusement. They all knew-what the prince did not for a moment suspect-t

insberg, she had been invited by the princess to the present fete, and it seemed to her very amusing to receive her own husband, not at

d at her side-he had been there for some time, greeting her in low, tender words-but Louise did not attend to him. She seemed not to see him; her whole soul was in her eyes, and they were occupied with the princess. S

r seven long years of absen

low, and what tender glances she throws him!" murmured Louise. "Ah! the prince has fallen a victim to his ingenuousness! Verily, he is again praising the merits of his friend. He tells her

convince me that you know me-that I have not become a stranger to you?" The princess now arose from her seat, and leaning on her husband's arm she passed through the room, talking merrily with