"Ah, see, my sister, although you are struggling against me, how justly you comprehend your position!" said the king, mildly. "You speak of wedding Denmark. Your exalted and great destiny sleeps in these words. A princess when she marries does not wed a man, but a whole people; she does not only make a man but a nation happy. There are the weeping, whose tears she will dry; the poor, whose hunger she will assuage; the unhappy, to whom she will bring consolation; the sick and dying, with whom she will pray. There is a whole people advancing to meet her with shouts of gladness, stretching out their hands, and asking for love. God has blessed the hearts of queens with the power to love their subjects, because they are women. Oh, my sister, this is a great, a noble destiny which Providence offers you—to be the beneficent, mediating, smiling angel, standing ever by the side of a king—a bond of love between a king and his subjects! Truly one might well offer up their poor, pitiful wishes, their own personal happiness, for such a noble destiny."
"I have no more happiness to offer up," sighed Amelia. "I have no happiness; I do not ask so much. I plead for the poor right of living for my great sorrow—of being faithful to myself."
"He only is faithful to himself who lives to discharge his duties," said the king. "He only is true to himself who governs himself, and if he cannot be happy, at least endeavors to make others so, and this vocation of making others happy is the noblest calling for a woman; by this shall she overcome her selfishness and find comfort, strength, and peace. And who, my sister, can say that he is happy? Our life consists in unfulfilled wishes, vain hopes destroyed, ideals, and lost illusions. Look at me, Amelia. Have I ever been happy? Do you believe that there is a day of my life I would live over? Have I not, from my earliest youth, been acquainted with grief, self-denial, and pain? Are not all the blossoms of my life broken? Am I not, have I not ever been, the slave of my rank?—a man, 'cabined, cribbed, confined,' though I appear to be a great king? Oh, I will not relate what I have suffered—how my heart has been lacerated and trampled upon! I will only say to you, that, notwithstanding this, I have never wished to be other than I am, that I have been always thankful for my fate; glad to be born to a throne, and not in a miserable hut. Believe me, Amelia, a sublime misfortune is better, more glorious, than a petty happiness. To have the brow wounded, because the crown presses too heavily upon the temples, is more desirable than to breathe out your sorrows in the midst of poverty and vulgarity, then sink into a dark and unknown grave. God, who has, perhaps, denied us the blessing of love, gives fame as a compensation. If we are not happy, we are powerful!"
"Ah, my brother, these are the views of a man and a king," said Amelia. "I am a poor, weak woman. For me there is no fame, no power!"
"Isabella of Spain and Elizabeth of England were also women, and their fame has extended through centuries."
"They, however, were independent queens. I can be nothing more than the wife of a king. Oh, my brother, let me remain only the sister of a king! Let there be no change in my fate—let all remain as it is! This is my only hope—my only prayer! My heart is dead, and every wish is buried—let it suffice, my brother! Do not ask the impossible!"
The king sprang from his seat, and his eyes glowed with scorn. "It is, then, all in vain!" said he, fiercely. "You will listen neither to reason nor entreaty!"
"Oh, sire, have mercy—I cannot wed the King of Denmark!"
"You cannot!" cried the king: "what does that mean?"
"That means that I have sworn never to become the wife of another than of him whom I love; that means that I have sworn to die unmarried, unless I go to the altar with my beloved!"