The king turned aside. His sons’ tears were offensive. Who knows whether they will weep when their father also dies?
“Go, my sons, and pay a last tribute of tears to the past, and then turn your thoughts to the joyful realities of the present!”
The two princes bowed ceremoniously, and then left the room, retiring backward, as if in military drill.
The king’s eyes followed them as they left the room, and his countenance darkened. “They are as stiff and awkward as puppets. And yet they have hearts, but not for their father!—Rietz!”
The chamberlain immediately appeared in the doorway, and stood awaiting his master’s commands, his countenance beaming with humility.
“Rietz, go at once and inform my son Alexander of what has taken place! He must go to Charlottenburg with his tutor and await me there! Let him tell his mother that I will take tea with her this evening, and that she may expect me at six o’clock.”
“Will your majesty pass the night in Charlottenburg?” asked the chamberlain, with his eyes cast down and the most innocent expression of countenance.
“I cannot say,” replied the king; “I may go to Berlin, and—”
“Your majesty, perhaps, considers it necessary to pay a visit of condolence to the widowed queen at Schönhausen?”