Reading it hastily, all watching, she suddenly burst into tears.
"My Queen, my dear, dear Queen, what is it?" and the Countess flew to her side.
The Queen, recovering herself, clung to her old friend.
The King wished her to come to Memel, to stay with him and plead the cause of her country with Napoleon, to entreat for a better peace.
Her voice quivered as she told of the request, and for a moment her blue eyes gazed pathetically at her friends in the Saal.
The whole room was silent, though indignation flashed across a face or two.
Each knew that Napoleon had treated the Queen most shamefully, and that it was cruel that she must plead before him, must entreat a favour.
"It is the hardest thing I have had to do," at last the Queen's sweet voice broke the silence, her body quivering as a rose on its stem when the blasts blow. "It is the greatest sacrifice I can make for my country." And her lips shook pathetically.
Then she stood in silence, holding the letter in her hand, while the company waited. Marianne felt her heart beat until it was near bursting. They all knew that the Queen could say that she was not well. The winds and cold of Memel had never agreed with her. As an excuse to save herself it would be quite justifiable.
Marianne leaned forward eagerly. It seemed to her at that moment as if all her life was to be settled.