“Poor mother! it is long since I saw you.”
“It is true, the queen complained of it the last time I spoke with her,” said Pollnitz, with a perfectly serious face, but with inward rejoicing.
Another pause ensued. The prince appeared to reflect, and to struggle with his own thoughts and wishes. Pollnitz stood behind him, and noted every motion, every sigh that he uttered, with his malicious smiles.
“I believe,” said the prince, with still averted face, perhaps to prevent Pollnitz from seeing his blushes—“I believe it would be proper for me to inquire to-day personally after my mother’s health; it is not only my duty to do so, but the desire of my heart.”
“Her majesty will be pleased to see her beloved son again, and this pleasure will hasten her recovery.”
The prince turned hastily and glanced sharply at Pollnitz, as if he wished to read his inmost thoughts. But the countenance of the courtier was earnest and respectful.
“If that is your opinion,” said the prince, with a happy smile, “my duty as a son demands that I should hasten to the queen, and I will go immediately to Berlin. But as I am going to my mother, and solely on her account, I will do it in the proper form. Have, therefore, the kindness to obtain my leave of the king—bring me my brother’s answer immediately, I only await it to depart.”
“And I hasten to bring it to your highness,” said Pollnitz, withdrawing.
Prince Henry looked thoughtfully after him.
“I shall see her,” he murmured; “I shall speak with her, and shall learn why she withdrew herself so long from me. Oh, I know she will be able to justify herself, and these slanders and evil reports will flee before her glance as clouds before the rays of the sun.”