The king sat at his desk, assiduously engaged in writing, when the door opened, and the queen entered. Her whole bearing breathed an unwonted, solemn earnestness; her head was proudly erect, her cheeks pale, and a melancholy smile was playing on her lips. In her left hand she held a roll of papers. The king rose hastily to meet his wife with a kindly greeting. Louisa gave him her right hand, and laid her head for a moment on his shoulder. Looking into her husband's face with a sweet, touching expression, "Do you love me, Frederick?" she asked in so low and gentle a voice that he scarcely heard it. Frederick William smiled, and, instead of replying to her, imprinted a kiss on her fair brow.

"Do you believe in me?" said Louisa. "Oh, my lord and king, I implore you by every thing that is sacred—by the memory of our children—tell me, sincerely and frankly, as if standing before God, do you believe in me? Do you believe in my love—in my virtue?"

"Louisa," exclaimed the king, indignantly and almost aghast, "this question is too grave to be a jest, and too ludicrous to be grave."

"And yet I am in earnest," exclaimed the queen, in an outburst of excitement, which she was no longer able to restrain. "Look at these papers, Frederick. They contain a terrible charge against your wife—the mother of your children—the queen of our people. They accuse the wife of a disgraceful liaison, and the queen of the most infamous selfishness. Frederick, they charge me with loving the Emperor Alexander, and with having induced you, for the purpose of gratifying this passion, to enter into the alliance with Russia. Now, you know the disgrace weighing me down, of which all Germany is aware by this time, and in which the malicious and evil-disposed will surely believe, even though the virtuous and compassionate may refuse to credit it. Read these papers, my husband; read them in my presence, and if your features express but a shadow of doubt—if you fix your eyes but for a moment on me with an uncertain expression—let me die, and hide my head in the grave!"

She offered the papers to the king, but Frederick William only glanced at them, and then laying them on the table, took from one of its drawers other papers. "See, Louisa," he said in his blunt, dry manner, "these are the same numbers of the Telegraph; I have already had them for a week, and read every word of them."

The queen unfolded them. "It is true," she said, shuddering; "they are the same papers; I read there again the terrible words, 'Queen Louisa insists on continuing the alliance with Russia, only because her heart has formed an alliance with the fine-looking Emperor Alexander, and because she is passionately enamoured of him.' Oh, my husband, these words have engraved themselves as a stigma on my forehead, and should your eyes behold it also, let me expunge it by sacrificing my life. Tell me the truth, Frederick! Have I deserved it—have I ever sinned by a word—nay, by a look? I have often thought and said, that there is a vestige of truth at the bottom of every rumor—that it may be greatly exaggerated, but cannot be entirely false. Is there any foundation whatever for this slander? Consider well, my husband, and if you should find that I have sinned by a gesture, by a smile, banish me from your presence. Tell me that I am unworthy of being called your wife; tear the bonds of friendship that unite you with the Emperor Alexander, and oppose him as an enemy, menacing and demanding satisfaction. There must be no stain on your honor, and if you believe the statements of these papers, show to the world that you will punish the faithless wife and spurn the treacherous friend!"

The king put his hands on the glowing cheeks of his wife, and, raising her head, gazed at her with a long and tender look. "Your friends had no mercy on you, then?" he asked. "They had to inform you pitilessly of what I wished so anxiously to conceal from you? I would willingly have cut off my right hand if I could have expunged with the blood trickling from the wound those lies from the public mind. But the world has now as little mercy on us as fate. Affliction has hitherto surrounded your beauty with the glory of a martyr; but mean men have been instigated to make you a penitent sinner—a Magdalen of the martyr."

"My beloved Frederick," cried the queen, "you evade my question; you do not reply to me! Tell me the truth. Do you believe in me? Or do you deem me guilty?"

At this moment a low rap at the door interrupted them. The king listened, and then turned smilingly to his wife. "It is Minister von Zastrow, who comes with General Bertrand," he said. "I have granted an audience to the Frenchman at this hour, to receive the letter and the peace offers of Napoleon. He is proposing to me an alliance with France, and he, as well as his adherents here, I suppose, count on my having read those papers, knowing in what sense malicious men are interpreting our alliance with Russia. The reply that I shall make to Napoleon's envoy will be also a reply to your question; hence you shall hear it, Louisa. Enter my cabinet; the portiÈre will conceal you from the eyes of my visitors while you will hear every thing that is said." He took the queen's arm and conducted her quickly into the adjoining room; hastily rolled an easy-chair toward the door, and requested her by a wave of his hand to sit down on it. He then lowered the thick velvet portiÈre, and, taking leave of his wife with a smile, returned to his room.

Louisa gazed after him. "Oh," she whispered, "how could I deceive and betray him?—him whom I love as the cause of all my happiness, and who has rendered my life sacred and glorious! Oh, my husband and my children! my conscience is clear, and accuses me of no guilt! Will you believe it, Frederick? Will those infamous slanders not leave a vestige of mistrust in your mind? But hush, hush! the envoy is there already! I will listen to what the king replies to him." She bent her head closer, and her large blue eyes with their searching glances seemed to pierce the heavy velvet, so that she might not only hear but see what was going on in the room.

In obedience to a sign made by the king, the door of the anteroom had opened, and General Bertrand, accompanied by General von Zastrow, entered. The king, standing in the middle of the room, returned the deep, respectful obeisances of the two gentlemen by a careless nod, and fixed his quiet eyes searchingly on the French general.

"Sire," said General von Zastrow, in a loud and solemn voice, "General Bertrand, adjutant of his majesty the Emperor Napoleon, in accordance with the gracious leave of your majesty, has appeared here in order to deliver to you an autograph letter from his imperial master."

"I am glad to see General Bertrand, and to make his acquaintance," said Frederick William, composedly; "I like the brave; and not merely the French army, but all men, know you to be a brave officer."

General Bertrand blushed. "Ah, sire," he said, "if I have not deserved this praise hitherto, your royal and kindly words will stimulate me in the future to strive with unflagging zeal to become worthy of it. I deem myself happy because my august master the emperor selected me to be the bearer of his letter and of his proposition, for he thereby enables me to do homage to the noblest and best of kings—to the exalted sovereign who bears prosperity and adversity with equal dignity. Your majesty will permit me to deliver the letter of my emperor into your hands." He approached the king, and, presenting to him the large letter to which the imperial seal had been affixed, reverentially bent his knee.

"Oh, no," said Frederick William, quickly, "a brave soldier must not humble himself in this manner; rise, general!"

General Bertrand rose, holding the imperial letter still in his hands, for the king had not yet taken it. Looking at him inquiringly, "Sire," he said, "may I request your majesty to receive the letter of my emperor?"

"Ah, I forgot," exclaimed the king. "You are the bearer of a letter the Emperor Napoleon has addressed to me. Let me confess my want of skill: I am unable to read your emperor's handwriting very rapidly, and it is disagreeable slowly to decipher such a letter. Moreover, what the emperor has to say to me will, doubtless, sound better when uttered by your lips, than in the black words on the paper. I, therefore, request you to read it to me."

"Sire," exclaimed General Bertrand, "I shall not dare to break the seal of a letter addressed to your majesty, and not to me."

"Oh, you may do so," said the king, "I permit you to break the seal. What the Emperor Napoleon and I have to write to each other need not be sealed. Everybody may know it. And, I suppose his letters will be only a sort of continuation of the bulletins he issued in Potsdam and Berlin. Such bulletins and letters belong to the world and history, which will judge them."

"Oh," whispered the queen, who had heard every word, "oh, why cannot I see him in his proud calmness and dignity, and thank him for his noble words!" She seized the portiÈre with her slender fingers and pushed it aside a little, so as to be able to see what was going on in the other room. The king, perhaps, had noticed the slight rustling, for he; glanced quickly at the curtain; it opened immediately, the noble and beautiful face of the queen appeared; she nodded with radiant eyes a smiling greeting to her husband, and kissed her hand to him; her head then disappeared from the aperture, and the folds of dark velvet closed again. General Bertrand and General von Zastrow had seen nothing. Both stood with their backs toward the door, and respect prevented them from looking around toward the slight noise that reached their ears for a moment.

A smile illuminated the king's face. "Well," he asked, almost jestingly, turning to General Bertrand, "you have not broken the seal yet? Do so, for you ought to understand that I am anxious to hear the contents of this letter."

"Sire, inasmuch as you command me, I obey," said Bertrand. With a quick pressure of his hand he broke the seal and opened the letter.

"Now let me hear it," said the king, gliding slowly and carelessly into the easy-chair standing at the side of the desk. "There are two chairs; take seats, gentlemen!"

"Your majesty will permit me to stand. My master the emperor is not accustomed to have his letters read in another position."

"Yes, he may require his subjects to pay to him the deference of standing when one of his letters is being read," said the king. "You may stand, therefore, if you please. General von Zastrow, sit down." The king said this in so stern and imperious a tone that General von Zastrow felt resistance impossible, and that he would have to obey the king's order. He took a chair in silence, inwardly aghast at this disrespectful breach of etiquette.

"Read," said the king, dryly. General Bertrand unfolded the letter and read as follows:

"Your majesty will receive this letter at the hands of my Adjutant-General Bertrand, who enjoys my friendship. I, therefore, request you to repose entire confidence in every thing that he says, and I flatter myself that his mission will be agreeable to you.

"Bertrand will communicate to your majesty my views about the present state of your affairs. I desire to set bounds to the misfortunes of your family, and to organize, as soon as possible, the Prussian monarchy, whose mediating power is necessary for the tranquillity of Europe.

"Bertrand will also communicate to you the easiest and quickest way in which this can be brought about, and I hope your majesty will let me know that you have taken the step which will accomplish this purpose in the best manner, and which, at the same time, will agree with the welfare of your subjects; that is to say, that you accept the peace which I am offering to you. At all events, I beg your majesty to feel convinced that I am sincerely disposed to resume our former relations, and that I also wish to come to an understanding with Russia and England, provided these powers should be animated with the same desire. I should detest myself if I were to be the cause of so much bloodshed. But how can I help it? The conclusion of peace is therefore in the hands of your majesty, and it would be the happiest day of my life if you accept my present propositions.

"NAPOLEON."

"You have to make oral explanations to this letter of your emperor?" asked the king, when Bertrand paused.

"Yes, sire, my master the emperor intrusted me with further communications to you," said Bertrand. "But, in the first place, I beg leave of your majesty to deliver the imperial letter into your hands." He approached the king and presented the paper to him with a respectful bow.

The king did not take it, but pointed to his desk. "Lay it there," he said, carelessly. "The purpose of this letter is accomplished; I know its contents, and that is all I care about. And now, general, communicate to me as briefly as possible the verbal commissions with which the emperor has intrusted you."

"Sire, his majesty the emperor authorized me to repeat to you that it was his liveliest wish to resume his former amicable relations with Prussia, and that he would shrink from no sacrifice to effect it. The emperor longs for nothing more ardently than to restore your states to your majesty, and to conduct you back to your capital."

"As his vassal?" asked the king, smiling sarcastically.

"No, sire, as a free and independent king."

"Not as Napoleon's ally, then?"

"Yes, sire, as the emperor's ally, but as free and independent as he is himself. It is true, the emperor hopes and wishes that Prussia will be friendly toward France; he relies on your majesty's assistance in his struggle with Russia, which, in that case, will soon bow to the united will of France and Prussia, and be compelled to accept a treaty of peace. In return, the emperor will surrender to the just wishes of your majesty seditious Poland, which, as the emperor has become satisfied, is unable to bear an independent existence. The rebellious provinces of Prussian Poland shall speedily be compelled to yield unconditional obedience to the Prussian sceptre, and your country shall occupy once more the position due to her in the council of European nations. It will be unnecessary for her to make for this purpose any sacrifices to the friends and allies of France; all her fortresses and provinces shall be fully restored, and so soon as the treaty of peace will have been definitively concluded, the French troops will evacuate the Prussian territory."

While General Bertrand was speaking, the face of Minister von Zastrow had brightened, and was now really radiant with joy. Animated by the cheering words of the Frenchman, he rose from his seat, and looked at the king with clasped hands and imploring eyes. But the countenance of Frederick William remained impenetrable and cold; not the slightest expression of joy or gratification was to be read in it.

"Are you done, general?" asked the king, after a pause.

"Yes, sire. I am waiting for your majesty's reply."

"This reply will be brief and decisive," exclaimed Frederick William, loudly, rising slowly and with truly royal dignity. "I will not accept this alliance and this peace!"

"Your majesty," said General von Zastrow, in dismay, forgetful of the requirements of etiquette, "your majesty, that is impossible! You cannot be in earnest; I beseech you first to hear the opinion of your ministers, and to consult a cabinet council."

"Silence!" said the king, indignantly; "the only voices that I ought to consult with regard to this question are not those of my ministers, but those of my conscience and honor. It behooves the king alone to decide upon war or peace. I repeat, therefore, I will not accept this peace nor enter into the alliance offered under such circumstances. I might content myself with this declaration, but I shall tell you the reasons of my refusal that you may repeat them to your emperor. I cannot accept, for it would be a defeat and disgrace more humiliating than the loss of a battle. What, sir! I am to receive by the grace and bon plaisir of your emperor the gift of a position to which I am entitled by my birth! The Emperor Napoleon condescends to restore my states after forcibly expelling me from them! If I were to accept this offer, I should thereby condemn myself; and this war, into which I entered so reluctantly, because I foresaw its disastrous consequences, would be nothing but a reckless adventure, abandoned by myself because unsuccessful. If I allowed Napoleon to reinstate me in my rights, what would I be but his vassal? Not a king by the grace of God, but a king by the grace of Napoleon—not the ruler of a free and independent German state, but the governor of a French province—the despised oppressor of an enslaved people, robbed of their honor, independence, and nationality. Now, I commenced this war for the sake of my own honor and that of my people. I commenced it to set bounds to French cupidity and thirst for conquest; to preserve to Germany her German and to Prussia her Prussian character, and to drive back the Confederation of the Rhine beyond the frontier of the Rhine. The fortune of war has not sustained me in these efforts, and victory perched upon the eagles of France. But the Prussian eagle is not yet dead; he may still hope to rise again, and, endowed with renewed vigor, reconquer what belongs to him. What was taken by the sword can be reconquered only by the sword. My honor, as well as that of my army and people, was wounded on the battle-fields of Jena and Auerstadt; it cannot be healed by the balm of Napoleon's grace; it can only be redeemed by blood!"

"Sire, I beseech you, do not allow yourself to be carried away by the ardor of your heroism," exclaimed General Bertrand, feelingly. "Remember that after the rejection of this peace the Emperor Napoleon will be a relentless enemy of yours, and leave nothing undone in order to annihilate Prussia. Your majesty ought also to take into consideration that you lack an army—that your forces have been dispersed, and that your fortresses have surrendered."

"Colberg and Graudenz are still holding out," exclaimed the king, "and so is Dantzic."

"Sire, if you reject this peace, the first step of the emperor will be to take Dantzic by assault," said General Bertrand.

"Your majesty, have mercy on Dantzic," exclaimed General von Zastrow, imploringly; "have mercy on your blockaded fortresses—on your poor distressed subjects! So soon as your majesty accepts this peace, the Emperor Napoleon intends withdrawing all the French troops from Prussian territory. Oh, pray take into consideration how dreadfully your people have suffered by the heavy contributions, and the enormous supplies to the troops! Remember that they are overwhelmed with wretchedness, and are kneeling and crying to God and to their king to restore peace."

"O my God," murmured the queen, "inspire him with the true decision, and grant that he may perceive and choose what is right!" She knelt down behind the curtain as if to hear better the king's words, that to her were the words of God. The king did not seem to notice his minister's supplication; his eyes glanced at him coldly and disdainfully, and were then fixed gravely on the face of the French general.

"I am not quite done with my reply to your propositions," he said. "I have told you the reasons why I cannot accept peace. It only remains to explain why, though the terms were honorable, I could and would not be allowed to enter into this alliance. By virtue of it I should be obliged to espouse the cause of France against her enemies, and to wage war against Russia, my ally. I am to violate the only sure compact remaining to me in order to become a mere cipher in the hands of Napoleon! I am to betray him who has been faithful to me! The Emperor of Russia is my personal friend. At the grave of Frederick the Great I swore with him to maintain the alliance of both our hearts and our states, and no other voice induced me to take this step but my inclination, my policy, and my reason. The Emperor of Russia, true to our mutual oath, renewed his protestations of friendship in the hour of danger, and his army is ready to uphold our common cause. If, now that France is offering peace to me at the expense of Russia, I were to accept it, I should commit a perfidious act, and, as a Prussian soldier, as a friend of the Emperor Alexander, I must decidedly reject any idea of such a desertion. A German keeps his word, and does not trifle with treaties he has sworn to. German fealty has not yet become an empty sound, and France will be obliged to admit that she is struggling with an adversary who does not sell his honor for provinces or for money. Now you know all I had to communicate. Tell Napoleon that intrigues and slanders cannot separate me from my alliance with the Emperor of Russia any more than adulation and advantageous offers. My resolution will remain as firm as a rock. And now, good-by, general!"

He waved his hand to Bertrand, and received with proud calmness the respectful bows with which the French general withdrew.

No sooner had the door closed than the queen appeared. Her eyes filled with tears, and stretching out her arms toward her husband, seemed a picture of beauty, grace, and love. The king hastened to her and pressed her firmly against his heart. "Are you satisfied with my answer, Louisa?" he asked. "Do you know now what I think of those wretched calumnies?"

The queen bent and kissed his hand. "I thank you, my beloved husband," she whispered tenderly. "Wise and kind as you always are, you knew how to comfort my heart, and by your heroic words to fill my soul with enthusiasm and delight. My husband and king, you have restored my honor. I care no longer for the abuse of the world, but shall always think of this sacred hour, for my king believes in me, and my husband still loves his Louisa; he knows that the mother of his children is innocent, and may freely raise her eyes to heaven."

"I know more than that," said the king, laying his hand on his wife's head, as if blessing her; "I know that in these times of adversity you are the only hope left me; I know that I derive courage and consolation from you, and that in my misfortunes I still deem myself fortunate, because you are by my side—the angel of my life!"

"Ah, Frederick," exclaimed the queen, bursting into tears, "Frederick, how rich and happy you make me! Am I not an enviable wife, possessed as I am of such a husband!" In passionate tenderness, she threw her arms about him, and in loving embrace rested long on his breast.

Some one rapped repeatedly and discreetly at the door. Louisa, blushing, raised her head and dropped her arms. The king ordered the person to walk in. It was General von Zastrow who entered, pale and gloomy. Frederick William smilingly beckoned him to approach.

"You are dissatisfied with me, Zastrow?" he said, in a pleasant tone; "you believe it would be better to make peace?"

"Your majesty, I am afraid you have rejected an advantageous alliance, and will, perhaps, be compelled soon to accept by far more rigorous terms."

"You do not know, then, that large Russian forces are advancing, and that the Emperor Alexander himself probably leads his troops against the enemy?"

"Pardon me, sire, but I do not believe in the friendship of Russia. Your majesty uttered words so generous to-day, that my eyes filled with tears of admiration, and I felt proud as a man and subject, although my heart as a general and minister was overwhelmed with sorrow. May Russia deserve your fidelity! may she not disappoint your hopes, and commit as, you said, a perfidious act, by entering into an alliance with France at the expense of Prussia! But may your majesty, above all, get an army courageous and strong enough to brave all your enemies, and restore the greatness of Prussia!"

"You do not believe, then, in this army?" asked the king, gloomily.

"Your majesty, in order to organize an army, money—a great deal of money—is indispensable."

"And you mean to say we have none?"

"Your majesty, not only your privy purse is entirely exhausted, but there is also no money in the state and district treasuries. Gold and silver seem to have wholly disappeared; stocks and commercial paper are depreciating every day, and the bankruptcy of the state will be inevitable!"

"Ah!" exclaimed the king, indignantly, "do not utter such a word! Never shall I permit such distress to be inflicted upon my poor subjects!"

He commenced rapidly pacing the room; suddenly, however, he stood still in front of the queen, who had softly withdrawn into a window-niche, where she had watched every movement of the king. "Louisa, will your repasts be as agreeable to you on porcelain plates as on gold and silver?"

The queen smiled. "The little Princess of Mecklenburg was accustomed to take her meals off porcelain," she said, "and I honestly confess that the Queen of Prussia at times envied her her plain white plates."

The king, turning again to his minister, said: "We are not yet so poor as you seem to believe; our large golden dinner-set, the heirloom of our ancestors, was safely removed from Berlin, and is now here at Memel. It embraces pieces of the highest value, for which millions have been paid. May my ancestors pardon my giving away what they collected! I am not doing so in a reckless and extravagant manner, but with profound sorrow and with a mournful heart. But it cannot be helped! General von Zastrow, I shall issue the necessary orders to have my large golden dinner-set either sold or pawned. We shall receive at least a million dollars for it."

"And the privy purse of your majesty stands greatly in need of this million," said General von Zastrow, drawing a sigh.

The king shrugged his shoulders. "Not a dollar of it shall be paid into my privy purse," he said. "The money shall be distributed among the public treasuries, that the lack of funds may be temporarily relieved, and that my poor suffering subjects need not fear that the state become bankrupt."

"But if your majesty should carry out this generous resolution," exclaimed the general, "you may soon be in danger yourself of privations."

The king cast a long, inquiring glance on his wife. Louisa smiled and nodded kindly to him. "If questions of economy and family matters are to be considered," she said, "a woman may be permitted to say a word in the council of men, and to give her opinion as a housewife. I think we are tolerating a great many superfluous and very expensive things in our private household, and, if my husband does not object, I should like to ask for a few changes."

"I shall never dare to contradict you," said Frederick, kindly. "Let me, therefore, know the changes you wish to make."

"In the first place, I think that we have too many servants, considering our present circumstances, and the small house in which we are living. As we do not give dinners, the people attached to the kitchen may be greatly diminished; most of the cooks, as well as the legion of footmen, may be discharged. It is necessary, too, to reduce the number of carriages, and to sell most of the horses standing uselessly in the stable. A plain vehicle, drawn by two good horses, is sufficient for my children, and whenever I want a ride, I believe my husband will lend me his yellow travelling-coach."

"Provided you allow me a seat at your side," said the king, smiling. "Are there any other suggestions you deem necessary?

"I wish the servants surrounding us to appear in a plain dress, and the expensive liveries, covered with gold and silver lace, to disappear. A plain black cloth coat, trimmed with white, is sufficient. It is not, however, to signify that we are in mourning, but only to represent the Prussian colors, and on looking at them I shall always feel proud and happy, while now, on beholding the liveries covered with gold and silver, I cannot suppress my shame, for I think of the distress of our subjects, and of the misery of our country. Let us begin, therefore, a plain, unpretending existence, my husband; let us set an example of simplicity to our people, and show them that one may be contented, though deprived of the splendors of wealth and position."

The king took her hand and pressed it against his lips. "I consent to all your wishes, Louisa," he said; "I will issue to-day the necessary orders to the steward.—You see, general, our privy purse will not lack money, for we shall realize a handsome sum by the sale of our horses, carriages, and the gold and silver lace of the liveries. Moreover, the war will not last forever, and we may, perhaps, look soon for a final decision."

"Your majesty, war, then, is absolutely unavoidable?"

"You still ask this question? Yes, the war will be continued. I will hear nothing further about peace."

"In that case," said General von Zastrow, trembling, "I must humbly request your majesty to accept my resignation; the continuation of the war, and the rejection of the peace offered to Prussia, are so contrary to my conviction, that my conscience does not permit me to assist in carrying out your plans."

"The first duty of every faithful servant is to comply with his master's orders," said the king, sternly. "I cannot accept your resignation, for I know that you are an honest servant, and that only your momentary anger has misled you. I give you, therefore, time to collect your thoughts and regain your temper. Work and activity are the best remedies for that purpose, and possibly there may soon be a favorable turn in our affairs, proving to you that you were wrong, and causing you to change your mind. Until further orders, therefore, you will remain my minister of war, but I shall give you an assistant. I shall appoint Hardenberg minister without portfolio, and give him a seat and vote in the new ministerial council which I am about to organize."

General von Zastrow started, and his face became paler. "Your majesty," he faltered in a low voice, "I—"

"The matter is settled," said the king, calmly. "I do not wish to hear further objection, general. We shall hold a meeting of the ministerial council to-morrow, and Hardenberg must be present. Good-by!"

General von Zastrow dared not contradict; he bowed in silence to the royal couple and tottered to the door.

When he had retired, the queen, turning to her husband, exclaimed, "You touched his sorest spot. He hates Hardenberg, and it will greatly torment him to have him at his side."

"He deserved some punishment," said the king, gravely. "For it was certainly owing to him that you were informed of those infamous slanders. Who laid the papers before you?"

"The Countess von Truchsess, my reader."

"Zastrow's niece! My supposition was right. It was a deep-laid intrigue, designed to drive us into the meshes of the peace party, and induce us to give up the Russian alliance."

"Do not be angry with them," said the queen, "their intentions were good."

"I know the good intentions of those so-called friends," exclaimed the king, vehemently, "They drive a dagger slowly into our breast, and when they see the wound bleeding, they excuse themselves with the pretext that their intentions were good! But he who has really honest intentions tries to spare his friend every pain. My 'intentions' were also good when I concluded to place Hardenberg in company with Zastrow. I do not like change; but if Zastrow, in the course of a few weeks, should not accustom himself to the presence of Hardenberg, he must withdraw, and Hardenberg remain."[31]