“Therefore I must be with you, to strew sometimes a few flowers on this path of yours,” exclaimed the queen, joyfully. “I must be with you, so that you may enjoy at least sometimes a calm, peaceful hour in the evening, after the toils and troubles of the day! I must be with you to rejoice with you when your affairs are prosperous, and to comfort you when misfortunes befall you. Do you not feel, then, dearest, that we belong indissolubly to each other, and that we must walk inseparably through life, be it for weal or for woe?”
“I am not allowed to think of myself, Louisa,” said the king, greatly affected, “nor of the joy it would afford me in these turbulent and stormy days to see you by my side—you, my angel of peace and happiness; I must only think of you, of the queen, of the mother of my children, whom I must not expose to any danger, and whom I would gladly keep aloof from any tempest and anxiety.”
“When I am no longer with you, anxiety will consume me, and grief will rage around me like a tempest,” exclaimed the queen, passionately. “I should find rest neither by day nor by night, for my heart would always long for you, and my soul would always tremble for you. I should always see you before me wounded and bleeding, for I know you will not regard your safety, your life, when there is a victory to be gained or a disgrace to be averted. Bullets do not spare the heads of kings, and swords do not glance off powerlessly from their sacred persons. In time of war a king is but a man! Permit the queen, therefore, at this time, to be but a woman—your wife, who ought to nurse you if you should be wounded, and to share your pain and anxiety! Oh, my beloved husband, can you refuse your wife’s supplication?”
She looked at him with her large, tearful, imploring eyes; her whole beautiful and great soul was beaming from her face in an expression of boundless love.
The king, overwhelmed, carried away by her aspect, was no longer strong enough to resist her. He clasped her in his arms, and pressed a long and glowing kiss on her forehead.
“No,” he said, deeply moved, “I cannot refuse your supplication. We will, hand in hand, courageously and resolutely bear the fate God has in store for us. Nothing but death shall separate us. Come, my Louisa, my beloved wife, accompany me wherever I may go!”
The queen uttered a joyful cry; seizing the king’s hand, she bent over it and kissed it reverentially, before the king could prevent her from doing so.
“Louisa, what are you doing?” exclaimed the king, almost ashamed, “you—”
Loud shouts resounding on the street interrupted him. The royal couple hastened hand in hand to the window.
On the opposite side of the street, in front of the large portal of the arsenal, thousands of men had assembled; all seemed to be highly excited, and, with shouts and manifestations of wild curiosity, to throng around an object in the middle of the densest part of the crowd.