Caroline, think of it! I am to
meet politely him who has robbed my children of their inheritance, and
caused me so many sleepless nights, so many tears, so many pangs! With a
smile I am to conceal my anguish; and, under a magnificent costume, my
wounded heart! As it behooves every lady, though no queen, I am not to
wait for him to come to me, but I am to go to him! I am to force my
visit on him--I am to court his favor! Ah, it is too much--too cruel!"
Raising her arms impetuously to heaven, she exclaimed in the energy of
her grief, "Wilt Thou have no mercy upon me, my God? Ah, let me die! Let
me die, to escape this new disgrace menacing me! I am a poor, tormented
woman! I ask nothing of Thee but death! Wilt Thou refuse me this only
wish?" She sank on her knees, her arms and eyes still raised toward
heaven, as if she expected that her prayer would be granted. She slowly
dropped her arms, and hung her head with a groan. Madame von Berg, in
tears and with folded hands, was praying in a low voice.
A long pause ensued. The queen rose from her knees; her face was calm
and her tears had gone! but around her eyes a quiver was still seen,
and at times a sigh escaped her breast. "It is over now," she said in a
low voice, "the struggle is over! Pardon my impassioned grief, Caroline;
my poor heart sometimes refuses to submit to the bridle of affliction.
But I must be docile and patient, and learn to obey without a murmur.
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