Ernestine regarded her with a sad and troubled glance. "You look pale, princess, in spite of your rouge, and your laugh lacerates the heart. There is a tone, a ring in it, like a broken harp-string."
"Still," said Amelia, "still, Ernestine! my hour has come! I go to the king. Look, the hand of the clock points to twelve, and I ask an audience of the king at this hour. Farewell, Ernestine! Ernestine, pray for me."
She wrapped herself in her mantle, and stepped slowly and proudly through the corridors to the wing of the castle occupied by the king. Frederick received her in his library. He advanced to the door to meet her, and with a kindly smile extended both his hands.
"Welcome, Amelia, a thousand times welcome! Your coming proves to me that your heart has found the strength which I expected; that my sweet sister has recovered herself, her maidenly pride, fully.
"The proud daughter of the Hohenzollerns is here to say to the king- -'The King of Denmark demands my hand. I will bestow it upon him. My father's daughter dare not wed beneath her. She must look onward and upward. There is no myrtle-wreath for me, but a crown is glittering, and I accept it. God has made both heart and brain strong enough to bear its weight. I shall be no happy shepherdess, but I shall be a great and good queen; I will make others happy.'"
"You have come, Amelia, to say this to the king; but you have also come to say to your brother—'I am ready to fulfil your wishes. I know that no selfish views, no ambitious plans influence you. I know that you think only of my prosperity and my happiness; that you would save me from misfortune, humiliation, and shame; that you would guard me from the mistakes and weaknesses of my own heart, I accede to your wish, my brother—I will be queen of Denmark?' Now, Amelia," said Frederick, with an agitated voice, "have I not rightly divined? Have you not sought me for this purpose?"
"No, my brother, no, no!" cried Amelia, with wild, gushing tears. "No; I have come to implore your pity, your mercy." Completely beside herself, mad with passion and pain, she fell upon her knees and raised her arms entreatingly to the king. "Mercy, my brother, mercy! Oh, spare my poor, martyred heart! Leave me at least the liberty to complain and to be wretched! Do not condemn me to marry Denmark!"
Frederick stepped backward, and his brow darkened; but he controlled his impatience, and drew near his sister with a kindly smile, and gently raising her from her knees, he led her to the divan.
"Come, Amelia, it does not become you to kneel to a man—to God only should a princess kneel. Let us be seated, and speak to each other as brother and sister should speak who love and wish to understand each other."
"I am ready for all else, I will accommodate myself to all else— only be merciful! Do not compel me to wed Denmark!"