"Yes, I will do so," said George William, sighing. "I will swallow down my rage, although it would be a relief to me to vent it a little, and to show my son that I know him and am not deceived by him. But what noise is that without, and who is knocking so violently at the door?"
This door was now impetuously torn open, and the Electress Sophy Elizabeth entered, with beaming eyes and features lighted up by joy, while on high she held an open letter in her hand.
"George!" she exclaimed—"George, our son is coming! Our dear Frederick
William is coming!"
"Well, I rather think he ought to have been here a half year ago," growled the Elector, "and we have been expecting him several months already."
"But he is here now, my husband, he is actually here now. Only see what a good, affectionate son he is! He has halted at the inn of the Spandow suburb, merely to forewarn us of his arrival. It was not enough for him that he had sent us a messenger with a verbal communication, no, he must send us a written salutation, and such kind, cordial words as he has written. There, read, my husband, just read!"
She handed the paper to the Elector, but he did not take it.
"Is the letter directed to me?" he asked.
"No, to me, to his mother he wrote, because he knew how happy it would make me, and how heartily I love him. Read, George!"
"I never read letters that are not directed to myself," said the Elector, turning away.
"Well, then, I will read it to you!" cried the Electress, who in the fullness of her joy heeded as little the ill humor of the Elector as she did the presence of Count Schwarzenberg, who upon her entrance had modestly withdrawn to one of the deep window recesses. "Yes, I will read it to you," she repeated, "for you must hear what our son writes."