“My mother!” cried the king, in a heart-broken voice. “My mother!”
He stood thus for a while, with his hands before his face, his form bowed down and trembling like an oak swayed by a storm. Tears escaped through his hands and fell slowly to the ground—groans of agony were wrung from him.
Le Catt could stand it no longer; he approached the king and ventured to say a few consoling words.
“Do not seek to comfort me,” said the king; “you do not know what inexpressible pain this loss has caused me.”
“Yes, sire, I well know,” said Le Catt, “for the queen-mother was the noblest, most gracious princess that ever lived. I can therefore understand your sorrow.”
“No, you cannot,” said the king, raising his pale, tearful countenance. “You carry your sorrow upon your lips—I upon my heart. The queen was the best of women, and my whole land may well mourn for her. It will not be forced grief, for every one who had the happiness to approach loved and admired her for her many virtues—for her great kindness. And I feel, I know, that sorrow for the ruin of Prussia has caused her death. She was too noble a princess, too tender a mother, to outlive Prussia’s destruction and her son’s misfortune.”
“But your majesty knows that the queen was suffering from an incurable disease.”
“It is true I know it,” said the king, sinking slowly upon his camp-stool. “I feared that I might never see her again, and still this news comes totally unexpected.”
“Your majesty will overcome this great grief as a philosopher, a hero.”
“Ah, my friend,” said the king, sadly, “philosophy is a solace in past and future sufferings, but is utterly powerless for present grief; I feel my heart and strength fail. For the last two years I have resembled a tottering wall. Family misfortune, secret pain, public sorrow, continual disappointment, these have been my nourishment. What is there wanting to make of me another Job? If I wish to survive these distressing circumstances, I must become a stoic. For I cannot bring the philosophy of Epicurus to bear upon my great sorrows. And still,” added the king, the dejected look disappearing from his countenance, and giving place to one of energy and determination, “still, I will not be overcome. Were all the elements to combine against me, I will not fall beneath them.”