Come, we will
alight and go into the house."
Madame von Berg made a sign to the footman to open the coach door, and
followed Louisa into the royal villa, to the rooms usually occupied by
their majesties during their visits to Stettin. "When I was last in this
room," whispered the queen, "the king and the crown prince were with me.
There was nothing but joy in my heart. I was a happy wife, a happy
mother, and a happy queen! And, to-day, what am I?" She heaved a
profound sigh, and, sinking down on the sofa, pressed her face upon the
cushions. "Into what an abyss I have been hurled from my heaven!" she
murmured in a low voice. "Once a happy sovereign--now a poor, fleeing
woman, who can excite only pity. Oh, mother, mother, God be praised that
you do not behold my distress!" She clasped her hands, and her trembling
lips whispered prayers to heaven. Her large blue eyes were raised with
an expression of fervent supplication, and tears rolled like pearls over
her cheeks. She sat a long while pondering over her misfortunes, and
shuddering at the prospects of the future.
Finally, Madame von Berg ventured to approach and arouse her from her
meditation.
"Your majesty," she said, in an imploring voice, "you promised to take
rest, for the sake of the king and of your children. Remember the burden
of care weighing down the heart of his majesty. Remember that his grief
would be more intense if he should see your eyes reddened with weeping,
and find you prostrated in your distress.
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