These were the words with which the minister Herzberg, accompanied by the valet Rietz, walked up to the bed of the prince royal, Frederick William, on the night of the seventeenth of August, and aroused him from his slumber.
“What is it? Who speaks to me?” asked the prince royal, rising in bed, and staring at the two men who stood before him—the one with a sad, the other with a joyful expression of countenance.
“I ventured to speak to your majesty,” answered Herzberg; “I, the former minister of King Frederick the Second. His majesty departed this life half an hour since, and I have come to bring the sad tidings in person. King Frederick the Second is dead!”
“Long live King Frederick William the Second!” cried the valet Rietz, as he busily assisted the king in dressing himself and finishing his toilet.
Frederick William remained silent. No words, either of sorrow or of joy, escaped his lips. Lost in thought, or perhaps painfully alive to the sublimity of the moment, or embarrassed as to what he should say, in order to satisfy two men so differently constituted, he silently submitted himself to his valet’s attentions, while Von Herzberg had withdrawn to the alcove of the farthest window, and stood sadly awaiting the commands of the new king.
“Your majesty is attired,” said Rietz, in low, submissive tones.
“Is the carriage in readiness?” demanded Frederick William, starting as if aroused from deep thought.
“Yes, your majesty, I ordered it to be ready at once.”
“Come, then, Herzberg, let us go; Rietz, you will accompany us.”