She had just finished the letter, and was folding the sheet, when the door of the adjoining chamber was opened, and a tall and remarkably beautiful young lady appeared on the threshold. Her rich, light, and unpowdered hair fell in a profusion of little locks around her high-arched brow. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were of a clear, luminous blue, her delicately-curved nose gave her countenance an aristocratic expression; and from her slightly-pouting crimson lips, when she smiled, all the little Cupids of love and youth seemed to send their arrows into the hearts of the admirers of the lovely maid of honor, Julie von Voss. Her tall and slender figure showed the delicate outline and the rich fulness which we admire in the statues of Venus, and there was, at the same time, something of the dignified, severe, and chaste Juno in her whole appearance—something unapproachable, that demanded deference, and kept her worshippers at a distance, after they had been attracted by her alluring beauty.
The queen greeted her maid of honor, who bowed profoundly, with a gentle smile. “You have come for my letter, have you not, my child? The courier is waiting?”
“No, your majesty,” replied the maid of honor, in a somewhat solemn voice. “No, it is not a question of dispatching a courier, but of receiving one who begs to be permitted to see you. The valet of your royal nephew Frederick William is in the antechamber, and desires to be admitted to your presence.”
The queen arose from her sofa with a vivacity unusual in one of her age. “The valet of my nephew?” said Elizabeth Christine, with quivering lips—“and do you know what brings him here?”
“He will impart his mission to your majesty only,” replied the maid of honor; and when the queen sank back on the sofa, and told her in faltering tones to admit the courier, she threw the door open, and summoned the valet with a proud wave of the hand. And straightway the broad, colossal figure of the royal privy chamberlain Rietz appeared on the threshold. With a smile on his thick lips, and his little gray eyes fixed intently on the pale old lady, who stared at him with an expression of breathless anxiety, the chamberlain entered, and walked across the wide room to the queen’s sofa with the greatest composure, although she had expressed no desire that he should do so.
“Your majesty,” said he, without waiting permission to speak, “I have been sent by his majesty King Frederick William—”
The queen interrupted him with a cry of anguish. “By King Frederick William!” she repeated, in faltering tones. “He is then dead?”
“Yes,” replied Rietz, inclining his head slightly. “Yes, King Frederick died last night; and he who was heretofore Prince of Prussia is now King of Prussia. His majesty sends the widowed queen his most gracious and devoted greeting; and orders me to inform her majesty that he will arrive here during the day to pay her a visit of condolence.”
The queen paid no attention to the chamberlain’s words; of all that he had spoken, she heard but this, that her husband, that Frederick the Great, was dead, that the man she had loved with such fidelity and resignation for the last fifty years was no longer among the living.
“He is dead! Oh, my God, he is dead!” she cried, in piercing accents. “How can life continue, how can the world exist, now that Frederick is no more! What is to become of unhappy Prussia, when the great king no longer reigns; what can it be without his wisdom and strength, and his enlightened mind?”