The king and the queen were about to fulfil the promises they had made each other; Sophia Dorothea was about to receive Count Neal, while the king was to welcome the recently married Countess Rhedern to court.
The loud and ironical voice of the master of ceremonies, Baron Pollnitz, had just announced to the royal family the arrival of Count and Countess Rhedern and Count Neal, and they were now entering the saloon, the sanctuary which was only open to the favored and privileged, only to those of high birth, or those whose offices required them to be near the king's person. No one else could enter this saloon without special invitation.
The newly-made Countess Rhedern made her entrance on the arm of her husband. Her face was perfectly tranquil and grave; an expression of determination rested on her features, which, although no longer possessing the charm of youth and beauty, were still interesting. Her countenance was indicative of energy and decision. An expression of benevolence played around her large but well-formed mouth; and her dark eyes, which were not cast down, but rested quietly on the royal family, expressed so much spirit and intelligence that it was evident she was no ordinary woman, but a firm and resolute one, who had courage to challenge fate, and, if necessary, to shape her own destiny.
But the proud and imperious Queen Sophia Dorothea felt disagreeably impressed by the earnest glances with which the countess regarded her. If she had approached her tremblingly, and with downcast eyes, crushed, as it were, by the weight of this unheard-of condescension on the part of royalty, the queen would have been inclined to pardon her want of birth, and to forget her nameless descent: but the quiet and unconstrained bearing of the newly created countess enraged her. Moreover, she felt offended by the elegant and costly toilet of the countess. The long silver-embroidered train, fastened to her shoulders with jewelled clasps, was of a rarer and more costly material than even the robe of the queen; the diadem, necklace, and jewelled bracelets could rival the parure of the queen, and the latter experienced almost a sensation of envy at the sight of the large fan which the countess held half open in her hand, and with which the queen had nothing that could compare. The fan was of real Chinese workmanship, and ornamented with incomparable carvings in ivory, and beautiful paintings.
The queen acknowledged the thrice-repeated courtesy of Countess Rhedern, with a slight inclination of the head only, while Queen Elizabeth Christine greeted her with a gracious smile.
The king, who noticed the cloud gathering on his mother's brow, and very well knew its cause, was amused to see the queen-mother, who had so warmly advocated the reception of Countess Rhedern at court, now receive her so coldly; and wishing to jest with his mother on the subject of this short-lived fancy, he greeted the countess very graciously, and turning to his mother, said:
"You have done well, madame, to invite this beautiful countess to court; she will be a great acquisition, a great ornament."
"A great ornament," repeated Sophia Dorothea, who now considered the quiet and unconstrained bearing of the countess as disrespectful to herself; and fixing her proud and scornful glances upon her as she contemptuously repeated the king's words, she said: "What a singular train you wear!"
"It is of Indian manufacture," said the countess, quietly; "my father is connected with several mercantile houses in Holland, and from one of these I obtained the curious cloth which has attracted your majesty's attention."
Sophia Dorothea reddened with shame and indignation. This woman had the audacity not only not to be ashamed of her past life, over which she should have drawn a veil, but she dared in this brilliant company, in the presence of two queens, to speak of her father's business relations—even while the queen magnanimously wished to forget, and veil the obscurity of her birth.