"God grant it, dear child. God grant it," she said. "Let us pray that the ravens will wake him, the old Red-Beard."
When Bettina had danced away to the twins, she turned with a saddened face to the old Countess.
"Dear Voss," she said, and her voice was low and troubled, "these poor, poor children whom this cruel war has orphaned! Each day I hear a fresh story of their suffering. Alas, that I, the Queen, can do nothing for want of money. But something must be done, and I, the Queen, must do it. Such a lovely child, so trusting and, alas, so desolate."
Then, her whole mood changed, she walked back to her house in Memel, her heart heavy with the troubles of the Fatherland.
That very day Ludwig Brandt appeared. Why he travelled to and fro over the country no one knew, unless it was the Professor. It was something to do with the war, of that all were certain.
He reported that fifty thousand French and Russians lay dead in the snow of Eylau, and that Napoleon was to send General Bertrand to Memel to propose peace to King Frederick William.
In a day or two this general came—"A most disagreeable-faced Frenchman," the old Countess called him, "and with dreadful manners,"—and the story of his visit was soon known about Memel.
He had submitted an offer of peace from Napoleon, who agreed to restore his kingdom to the King of Prussia if he would break off his friendship with the Czar of Russia.
To the Queen he brought most agreeable and flattering messages from Napoleon. He sent her word that he had been deceived in her character. He wished now to be friends.
The Queen was polite, but that was all. She had no belief in the promises of the French Emperor. Napoleon had made a cruel war on a poor, helpless woman, driving her across the country, reading her letters, publishing wicked things against her, having horrid pictures drawn of her for his newspapers, and declaring her to have caused the war and all the misery to Prussia.