They had gained nothing from
the crown which rested upon Frederick's noble head; but they had
lost nothing. They returned to Rheinsberg not exalted, though not
humbled.
But one heart was broken, one heart was bleeding from unseen pain.
It was the heart of Elizabeth, the heart of that poor rejected woman
who was called the reigning queen, the wife of Frederick.
The king, on returning from his excursion to Strasburg, had reminded
her of her promise to follow him with her court to Rheinsberg. And
the poor sufferer, though she knew that the presence of the king
would be for her a continual torment, an hourly renunciation, could
not find strength to resist the desire of her own heart. She had
followed her husband, saying to herself with a painful smile: "I
will at least see him, and if he does not speak to me I will still
hear his voice. My sufferings will be greater, but I shall be near
him. The joy will help me to bear the pain. Soffri e taci!"
Elizabeth Christine was right; the king never spoke to her, never
fixed those brilliant blue eyes, which possessed for her the depth
and immensity of the skies, upon her pale countenance. With a silent
bow he welcomed her daily at their meals, but he did not now lead
her to the table and sit beside her.
Pages:
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455