Berlin and Sans-Souci; Or, Frederick the Great and His Friends

iline," to which he had now given the name of "Rome Saved," was to be given in the royal palace, in a private theatre gotten up for the occasion, and the actors and actress

his scorn. The poor poet D'Arnaud had been the special subject of his mocking wit. D'Arnaud had once been Voltaire's favorite scholar, and he had commended him highly to the king. He had the misfor

Sauvee" gave occasion for the difficulty. D'Arnaud, it is true, had but two words to say, but his enunciation did not

d not admit of power or action. He asked what declamation could p

pas ce qu'il a fait de micux; mais songez qu'a quatre cent lieues de Paris il est bien difficile de savoir si un homme qu'on lui recommende a du merite ou non; de plus c'est toujours des vers, et bien ou mal appliques ils prouvent que le vainqueur de l'Autriche aime les belles-lettres que j'aime de tout mon coeur. D'ai

is speech was the most important of all! With jeers and sarcasm he drove poor D'Arnaud to the wall, who, b

cene, and the general amusement, increased the pain of hi

content with his company. This evening the entire court was to witnes

ms, and had asked permission of the queen-mother to absent herself fr

ched upon the divan, and gazed with tearful eyes upon the letter which she held in her trembling hand

in the pomps and fetes of this riotous court, while thick darkness is round about me. No gleam of light, no star of hope, do

your grief? Why will you tear open

been always bleeding-always painful. Do you think so pitifully of me, Ernesti

cess, you are much happier than I! You know where, at least in thought, you can find your unhappy friend. Not the faintest sound in the distance gives answer to my wild q

t I knew that he lived, and loved me still! If Trenck were dead, he would appear to me in spirit. Had he forgotten me, I should know it; the knowledge would pierce my heart, and I should die that instant. I know that he has written to me, and that all his dear letters have fallen into the hands of the base spies with which my brother has surrounded me. But I am not mad! I will be calm; a day may come in which Trenck may require my help. I will not slay myself; some day I may be necessary to him I love. I have long lived, as the condemned in hell, who, in the midst of burning torture, open both eyes and ears wa

to my beloved; he is in distress, and yet he does not call upon me for relief. He knows that I cannot help him. Y

ck? He knows not that for five years his name has never passed my lips; he knows not that I have never been alone with my brother the king for one moment since that eventful day in which I promised to give him up forever. We have both avoided an interview; he, because he shrank from my prayers and tears, and I, because a crust of ice had for

insect which has awakened him, he will crush it in his passion. Trenck is in want; send him gold-gold to bribe the men of law. It is well-known that the counsellors-at-law are dull-eyed enough to m

me, I will accord cheerfully.' Now, then, I will remind him of this promise; I will plead for Trenck, and he dare not refuse. Oh, Ernestine! I know not surely, but it appears to me that for some little time past the king loves me more tenderly than heretofore; his eye rests upon me with pleasure, and often it seems to me his soft glance is imploring my love in return. You may call me childish, foolish; but I think, sometimes, that my silent submission has touched his heart, and he is

false a hope! Never will the king consent tha

ith a smile, "is not the reigning Margra

ith surprise, "for the reigning Margrav

, but of the widow of

, she has just married

yesterday, with a me

is his aunt, and

s aunt, as he has to control his sister,

nk now how charming it will be when I come to tell you of my great happiness. And now, Ernestine, come, you must go over my part with me once more, and then arrange my toilet. I will be lovely this evening, in order to please the king. I will play like an artiste in order to touch his cold heart. If I act my part with such truth and burning

resignation, her despair, were not the high-flown, pompous phrases of the tragedian, but truth in its omnipotence. It was living passion, it was breathing agony; and, with fast-flowing tears, with the

red her face with her hands, and bitter tears fell over her slender fingers. The queen-mother, surprised at her own em

upon every movement, every glance of Amelia. Words of glowing praise, thanks, admiration flowed from his lips. He met the princess behind

knowledge made her bright and brave; and when at the close of the drama the king came forward, embraced her with warmth, and thanked her in fond arid tender words for

, "ask something right royal from me this even

r to-morrow morning in which I may come to you and make known my r

s my intention to ask an interview with you to-morrow, and now you come forward voluntarily t

at ten o'clock, and m

my sister, it will be your pa