"It is true," said the king, smiling, "during these quiet years here at Königsberg, I was so happy as to have my wife, the charming consoler of my afflictions, always at my side; henceforth, the queen will often take my wife from me, and thousands of hearts which will welcome you so rapturously, will separate me often enough from my ideal. But I am not jealous, and the more my beautiful queen is honored, the greater will be my happiness. Come, my Louisa, let us go! the carriages are in readiness, and the children are waiting for us; but, before we leave this quiet room, accept again my thanks for the fidelity and kindness you have manifested toward me during my misfortunes. I am indebted to you for many alleviations of the sorrows which weighed me down. I am not a man of many words and cannot make fine phrases, but here in my soul I feel fervently that God has placed you at my side as an angel of consolation for the days of adversity, and of happiness for those of prosperity. Because I love you, I gave your name to our youngest daughter, born here at Königsberg. May she become a Louisa!"
"And may our sons inherit the noble spirit and the faithful and devout heart of their father!" exclaimed the queen, deeply moved. "May they bear adversity like him, without despondency, and enjoy prosperity without haughtiness! Oh, my friend, why will we say, then, that we are returning to Berlin poorer and less powerful than when we left the city three years ago? No, we return richer and more powerful: for we left with five children, and we return with seven—seven hearts that love us, and belong to us. Do they not constitute wealth and power? Come, my husband, let us hasten to our children! and with what a mother's pride shall I show our treasures to the good people of Berlin!" She smiled and drew the king along; her eyes, from which the tears had long since disappeared, were now radiant with love and joy—not a shade of melancholy was to be seen in her countenance when she embraced her children.
The journey to Berlin could be performed but slowly and in short stages. The snow-clad roads were almost impassable. Besides, every city and village through which the royal family journeyed, would have its share of congratulation. They were greeted with triumphal arches, and hymns and addresses of welcome. No one had escaped the miseries of war; mourning mothers and wives, amid the ruins of a former prosperity, were everywhere to be seen; but all this was forgotten during those happy hours when the people, delivered at length from foreign oppression, rejoiced again in the presence of the sovereigns who had endured the same afflictions. The whole journey resembled a triumphal procession—everywhere enthusiastic receptions and love-offerings!
On the eighth day at noon they arrived at the village of Weissensee, a league from Berlin. The shouts of thousands of happy people received them. The whole population had gathered at the roadside in order to greet the returning king and his family, and at the entrance of the village were halting fifty young citizens of Berlin mounted on fine horses. They had been commissioned by the inhabitants of the capital to escort the carriage in which Louisa was to make her entry, and which the citizens desired to present to her. It was a splendid gift, richly decorated with silver, and lined with violet velvet, the favorite color of the queen. The eight magnificent horses attached to the carriage wore violet harness, adorned with silver rings and buckles. The queen entered it with her daughter Charlotte and her third son, Prince Charles; the king and the two oldest princes mounted on horseback.
"Now, Louisa," said the king, riding up, "we have nearly reached our destination. There are the spires of Berlin; in half an hour we shall be there. But how pale you are, and your lips quiver! Are you unwell? Are you suffering?"
"No," she said; "I live only in my heart, which is throbbing as though it were ready to burst. Oh, I believe that one may die of joy. But such a death must be very happy!"
"But you shall live in joy," said the king, smiling. "Farewell now, Louisa; I must leave you. According to the ceremonial, I must be with the princes at the head of the procession. Au revoir at our house in Berlin!"
"Au revoir," said the queen, leaning back on the cushions of the carriage. "Charlotte," she said to the princess sitting at her side, "when we are near the gate, tell me. I want to be surprised, and, until I have reached the dear city, I will look at the sky, and remember that it is the same sky that was over us at Memel in the days of our deepest affliction." She threw back her head. Her eyes, blue and pure as heaven itself, were looking up, and the bright firmament seemed to inspire her with devout and grateful thoughts. Prayers were in her heart, and the memories of other days mingled with her prayers. It was exactly sixteen years since she made her entry into Berlin as a happy young bride. At that time, life was as the flowery spring, and she saw before her in her hopeful dreams only a world of happiness, love, and glory. She was then a bride, beautiful, loving, and beloved by her young husband, the inheritor of a kingdom. Now, at her second entry, she was sixteen years older, a matron of thirty-four, and a mother of seven children. The storms of life had passed over her, destroying many of her hopes. Her heart had been shaken as well as the throne of her husband. The ills of common mortals had befallen the king and his consort, and it was not their innate dignity and majesty that had enabled them to bear up, but their warm human feeling; it was not their self-reliance that had consoled them, but the faith that God, the Father of all, would be merciful to them, if, conscious of their impotence, they recognized His providence and believed in His wisdom and goodness.
The queen thought of all this, and compared the entry of the bride, rejoicing in the dreams of her young love and in the reality of worldly power, with the entry of the mother and queen, disappointed in her hopes and robbed of her dominion.
"And yet it is better to-day," she murmured, "I am richer now than I was then. My heart is richer, my soul is stronger, I—"