“My great uncle and king,” murmured he, “I swear to you that I will endeavor to do all that you recently enjoined upon me; and that I will ever strive to do honor to your great name. I swear to you that I will one day be a good and useful king, and endeavor to deserve the affection of the people. My dear uncle, I have a secret in my heart, and I must disclose it before you descend into the grave. It seems to me your sleep will be more peaceful when you learn it: I hate Madame Rietz and her husband. And if she is still living when I become king, I will punish her for her crimes, and will repay her for all the tears which she has caused my dear mother. No one knows of my determination except my mother, who recently told me what sorrow Madame Rietz had occasioned her, and then I was so angry that I wished to go immediately and kill her. But my mother exhorted me to silence and patience, and I promised that I would obey her. But when I am king, I will be no longer silent; then shall come the day of arraignment and punishment. This I swear to you, my dear, my great uncle and king; and this is the secret I longed to disclose. Yes, I will some day avenge my mother. Farewell, my king—sleep in peace! and—” A hand was laid upon his shoulder; he looked up and saw his young cousin Prince Louis, whose approach he had not noticed, standing beside him.
“I congratulate you, cousin,” said Prince Louis, impressively, “and crave the continuance of your favor, prince royal of Prussia. His majesty the king sent me here to pay my respects to the royal corpse and the prince royal, but I propose to pay my respects to the latter first.”
“No,” said Frederick William, who had slowly arisen from his knees, “that you must not do, cousin Louis. I am not changed, and am no better because of our great king’s death.”
“But more powerful,” said the prince; “you are now prince royal, and the greatest deference should be shown you. Oh, do not look at me so earnestly and angrily, cousin. You think I am cold and indifferent; but no, I have only determined not to weep over the body of our dear uncle. My mother tells me we shall also soon die, if we let fall a tear on the countenance of the dead. And yet, Frederick, when I reflect that the good uncle is dead who was always so kind to me, and who was our pride and glory, I cannot help shedding tears in spite of my mother’s injunction. Oh, great Frederick, that you could have remained a few years longer on earth, till that proud eye might have rested on a gallant prince and brave soldier, instead of a foolish lad!”
“But, cousin, how can you speak so disparagingly of yourself, and so far forget your dignity as a prince?”
“Ah, a prince is no better than any one else,” said Prince Louis, shrugging his shoulders, “and while I have the greatest respect for your exalted rank, Mr. Prince Royal, I have none whatever for my own little title; particularly at this moment, when I see that the great Frederick, the hero and king, was only a mortal. Oh, my dear uncle, why did you leave us so soon! You were not yet so old—scarcely seventy-four years, and there are so many who are older. A short time since, as I was coming here to inquire after your health, I saw an old man at the entrance of the park, warming himself in the sun; he sat with folded hands, and prayed aloud. I approached and offered him a piece of money, which he rejected. I then asked him why he prayed and begged, if he did not desire money. ‘I am praying for the sick king,’ said he; ‘I am entreating the sunbeams to warm and invigorate the king’s suffering body, and restore him to new life. The king is so young! he should live much longer. I was a soldier when the king was baptized, and stood near by as a sentinel; and now they say that he must die. That makes me anxious. If so young a man must already die, my turn will soon come; and I so much desire to live a little longer and warm myself in the bright sunshine!’ And the old man of ninety is still sitting in the sunshine; while you, great Frederick, were compelled to die! You have gone to the sun, while we are still groping in darkness, and lamenting your loss, and—”
“Be still, cousin!” murmured the prince royal; “some one is coming! It is the sculptor who is to take a cast of the king’s face. Come, let us go! Come!”
He extended his hand to Prince Louis, to lead him out of the room, but the prince drew back.
He knelt down before the body, and kissed the cold hand which had recently stroked his cheeks affectionately. Frederick had always loved Prince Louis, the son of his brother Ferdinand, and had often prophesied that he would live to accomplish something great and useful.