The Queen also went to Königsberg to visit her sister, Frederika, who had married the Prince of Solms and lived in that city.
But the Professor was right.
After a brave siege the fine city of Dantzic fell. Again Napoleon was conqueror, and back in haste came the Professor and back came the poor Queen, flying again to Memel, whose cold winds so disagreed with her. With them came news so dreadful that Marianne felt that never in her life could she be happy again. Napoleon had won the bloody victory of Friedland. Not a French cannon had missed its aim. Like ninepins, the enemy had fallen. Fleeing, the Russians, weighed down by their arms and heavy uniforms, had rushed into the nearby river and the waves had been as cruel to them as Napoleon's guns.
With the dead was Wolfgang, curly-haired, merry Wolf, the one ever ready with a laugh, ever making jokes, playing tunes on his fiddle, waiting on his mother, teasing the twins, laughing at Marianne, Wolf who had been the favourite of all the family.
"Ach Gott, ach Gott, ach Gott!" wept poor Madame von Stork, and she beat the wings of her love and refused to be comforted.
When the Queen heard that the Professor had lost a fine young son and that his wife was so overcome with her sorrow, she went like a friend to see her and to comfort her.
Madame von Stork felt the honour of the visit, but not even a visit from a Queen could make her cease weeping.
With gentle words her Majesty tried to comfort her. She told her of the bravery of Countess Dohna von Finkenstein, whom she had seen in Königsberg. Four sons had she sent to battle, and when they returned wounded, she had sent them forth again.
"We must trust in God, dear Madame von Stork," the Queen's eyes glowed. "I know that He will not desert us, no, not even after this dreadful battle of Friedland. Dear Madame, think what it means to me. Napoleon is in Königsberg now, and I can return no more, and we must perhaps quit our kingdom and fly for safety to Riga in Russia. But in spite of this, as I have written my dear father, I beg you in the name of God, to believe that we are in the hands of God. It is my firm belief that He will send us nothing beyond what we are able to bear. All power, dear Madame, comes from on high. My faith shall not waver, though after this dreadful misfortune I can no longer hope. To live or die in the path of duty—to live on bread and salt if it must be so—would never bring supreme unhappiness to me. Let us trust then, dear Madame, in the God who sends us good and permits the evil that in all things we may be drawn nearer to Him and His love."
Though the Queen's sweet voice trembled, though her eyes said, "I sorrow with you," Madame von Stork would not be comforted.