The young princes were on horseback, the King was with his generals.
"Long life to our good King! Long live Frederick William!" shouted the Berliners, but when they saw the Queen and remembered how she had gone for their sake to Napoleon, her name rang from one side of Berlin to the other.
At the palace an old man lifted her from her carriage, folded her in his arms and led her away from the people.
"Her father, the old Duke!" cried the Berliners, and they were not ashamed to weep openly.
In a few moments Queen Louisa appeared on a balcony.
The people went frantic with joy, and her cheeks grew pink, and she tried to smile, and then, the tears flowing from her eyes, prevented her.
"It is heartrending," said a stranger to Madame von Bergman, who, herself, was making use of an embroidered handkerchief. "When, Madame, I see that poor lady, our Queen, and think of all that she has suffered, and of our kingdom divided in two, and still ruled by Napoleon, I cannot restrain my speech."
"Never mind, Herr Arndt," said Madame von Bergman, "we all feel as you do."
The stranger started in alarm.
"You recognise me? I thought," he said, "that sorrow had so changed me that no one could know my features."