But this poor, always unfortunate King was himself severely ill with a sudden attack of malaria. For days he could not leave his bed, and it was not until the twenty-eighth that he set off for New Strelitz. And then the Queen was so ill there was no delaying.
It was between four and five in the morning when the carriage reached the castle.
The Queen, who lay awake in her room, heard them come. At midnight she had grown worse, at two she had called out to her sister, who at once went to her bed.
"Dear Frederika," she asked in a voice like a whisper, "what will my husband and children do if I die?"
But now the King had come.
In the hall he met the physicians. They explained that an abscess had formed and burst in one lung. The heart was involved and the Queen was sinking.
"Majesty," they said, "there is no hope."
The Queen's old grandmother, her withered cheeks wet with tears, took the King's hand in both of hers.
"While there is life there is hope," she said, her old voice struggling to comfort him.
Unlucky Frederick William shook his head.