Frederick the Great and His Family [27]
von Kleist was unable to reply. She gazed with wild terror into his cold, iron face--she listened with horror to that voice, whose mild, soft tone had become suddenly so harsh, so stern.
The prince repeated his question, and his tone was harder and more imperious.
"The day is not fixed," said Louise; "we must first obtain the king's consent to our marriage."
"I shall take care it does not fail you," said the prince, quietly.
"I will strengthen your petition to the king. Now, madame, you must forgive me for leaving you. Many greetings to your betrothed--I shall be introduced to him to-morrow at the parade. Farewell, madame!"
The prince made a slight bow, and, without glancing at her again, left the room slowly and proudly.
Louise gazed after him with mournful eyes, but he did not see it; he did not see how she fell, as if broken, to the floor, as if struck by lightning; and when the door closed on him she held her hands to Heaven pleadingly for mercy and forgiveness.
The portiere now opened, and the king entered; his countenance was pale, his eyes tearful, but they sparkled with anger when he saw Louise upon the floor. For him she was but a heartless coquette, and he was angry with her because of the suffering she had caused his brother, for whom he felt the deepest pity and compassion.
But that was now past; the brother could weep a tear of pity, the king must be firm and relentless.
As he approached her, she raised herself from the ground and made a profound and ceremonious bow.
"You have repaired much of the evil you have done, madame," said the king, sternly. "You have played a dishonorable game with my brother. You enticed him to love you."
"I think I have atoned, sire," said Louise, faintly; "the prince no longer loves but despises me. Your commands are fulfilled to the letter, and I now beg your majesty's permission to withdraw."
"Go, madame; you have done your duty to-day, and I will also do mine. I shall not forget what I promised you when you are Madame du Trouffle. We will forget all the faults of Madame von Kleist."
He dismissed her with a slight bow, and gazed after her until she had disappeared.
At this moment, a heavy fall was heard in the antechamber. The door opened immediately, and the pale, disturbed face of Pollnitz appeared.
"What is the matter, Pollnitz?" asked the king, hastily.
"Oh, sire, poor Prince Henry has fainted."
The king was startled, and stepped quickly to the door, but he remained standing there until his features resumed their calm expression.
"He will recover," he said--"he will recover, for he is a man; in my youthful days I often fainted, but I recovered."
CHAPTER X.
THE CONQUERED.
Painful and bitter were the days for Henry that followed his first disappointment. He passed them in rigid seclusion, in his lonely chambers; he would see no one, no cheerful word or gay laughter was allowed in his presence. The servants looked at him sorrowfully; and when the prince appeared at the parade the day after his painful interview with Louise, even the king found him so pale and suffering, he begged him to take a week's leave and strengthen and improve his health.
The prince smiled painfully at the king's proposition, but he accepted his leave of absence, and withdrew to the solitude of his rooms. His heart was wounded unto death, his soul was agonized. Youth soon laid its healing balm upon his wounds and closed them; anger and contempt dried his tears, and soothed the anguish of his heart.
The king was right when he said of his brother, "He is a man, and will recover." He did recover, and these days of suffering made a man of him; his brow, once so clear and youthful, had received its first mark of sorrow; the lines of his face were harsh and stern, his features sharper and more decided. He had experienced his first disappointment--it had nerved and strengthened him.
Before his eight days' leave of absence had expired, his door was again open to his circle of friends and confidants.
His first invited guest was the
The prince repeated his question, and his tone was harder and more imperious.
"The day is not fixed," said Louise; "we must first obtain the king's consent to our marriage."
"I shall take care it does not fail you," said the prince, quietly.
"I will strengthen your petition to the king. Now, madame, you must forgive me for leaving you. Many greetings to your betrothed--I shall be introduced to him to-morrow at the parade. Farewell, madame!"
The prince made a slight bow, and, without glancing at her again, left the room slowly and proudly.
Louise gazed after him with mournful eyes, but he did not see it; he did not see how she fell, as if broken, to the floor, as if struck by lightning; and when the door closed on him she held her hands to Heaven pleadingly for mercy and forgiveness.
The portiere now opened, and the king entered; his countenance was pale, his eyes tearful, but they sparkled with anger when he saw Louise upon the floor. For him she was but a heartless coquette, and he was angry with her because of the suffering she had caused his brother, for whom he felt the deepest pity and compassion.
But that was now past; the brother could weep a tear of pity, the king must be firm and relentless.
As he approached her, she raised herself from the ground and made a profound and ceremonious bow.
"You have repaired much of the evil you have done, madame," said the king, sternly. "You have played a dishonorable game with my brother. You enticed him to love you."
"I think I have atoned, sire," said Louise, faintly; "the prince no longer loves but despises me. Your commands are fulfilled to the letter, and I now beg your majesty's permission to withdraw."
"Go, madame; you have done your duty to-day, and I will also do mine. I shall not forget what I promised you when you are Madame du Trouffle. We will forget all the faults of Madame von Kleist."
He dismissed her with a slight bow, and gazed after her until she had disappeared.
At this moment, a heavy fall was heard in the antechamber. The door opened immediately, and the pale, disturbed face of Pollnitz appeared.
"What is the matter, Pollnitz?" asked the king, hastily.
"Oh, sire, poor Prince Henry has fainted."
The king was startled, and stepped quickly to the door, but he remained standing there until his features resumed their calm expression.
"He will recover," he said--"he will recover, for he is a man; in my youthful days I often fainted, but I recovered."
CHAPTER X.
THE CONQUERED.
Painful and bitter were the days for Henry that followed his first disappointment. He passed them in rigid seclusion, in his lonely chambers; he would see no one, no cheerful word or gay laughter was allowed in his presence. The servants looked at him sorrowfully; and when the prince appeared at the parade the day after his painful interview with Louise, even the king found him so pale and suffering, he begged him to take a week's leave and strengthen and improve his health.
The prince smiled painfully at the king's proposition, but he accepted his leave of absence, and withdrew to the solitude of his rooms. His heart was wounded unto death, his soul was agonized. Youth soon laid its healing balm upon his wounds and closed them; anger and contempt dried his tears, and soothed the anguish of his heart.
The king was right when he said of his brother, "He is a man, and will recover." He did recover, and these days of suffering made a man of him; his brow, once so clear and youthful, had received its first mark of sorrow; the lines of his face were harsh and stern, his features sharper and more decided. He had experienced his first disappointment--it had nerved and strengthened him.
Before his eight days' leave of absence had expired, his door was again open to his circle of friends and confidants.
His first invited guest was the