“Ah!” said Amelia, “if the good Marwitz were here, I should not have to endure this torture, but my brother has unconsciously robbed me of this consolation.  He has sent my friend and confidante home, and forced upon me a strange and stupid woman whom I hate.”

And now a gentle voice plead more earnestly for admittance.

“I must indeed open the door,” said the princess, unwillingly drawing back the bolt.  “Enter, Mademoiselle von Haak,” said Amelia, turning her back in order to conceal her red and swollen eyes.

Mademoiselle von Haak gave a soft, sad glance at the young princess, and in a low voice asked for pardon for her unwelcome appearance.

“Without doubt your reason for coming will justify you,” said the princess.  “I pray you, therefore, to make it known quickly.  I wish to be alone.”

“Alas! your royal highness is harsh with me,” whispered the young girl.  “I was forced upon you.  I know it; you hate me because I have taken the place of Mademoiselle von Marwitz.  I assure you I was not to blame in this.  It was only after the written and peremptory command of his majesty the king that my mother consented to my appearance at court.”

“Have you come, mademoiselle, simply to tell me this?”

“No, your royal highness; I come to say that I love you.  Even since I had the honor of knowing you, I have loved you.  In the loneliness which surrounds me here, my heart gives itself up wholly to you.  Oh, do not spurn me from you!  Tell me why you are sad; let me bear a part of your sorrow.  Princess, I offer you the heart of a true friend, of a sister—­will you cast me off?”

The young girl threw herself upon her knees before the princess, and her cheeks were bathed in tears.  Amelia raised and embraced her.

“Oh!” said she, “I see that God has not utterly forsaken me.  He sends me aid and comfort in my necessity.  Will you be, indeed, my friend?”

“Yes, a friend in whom you can trust fully, to whom you can speak freely,” said Mademoiselle von Haak.

“Who knows but that may be more dangerous for you than for me?” sighed Amelia.  “There are fearful secrets, the mere knowledge of which brings destruction.”

“But if I already know the secret of your royal highness?—­if I understand the reason of your grief during these last few days?”

“Well, then, tell me what you know.”

The maiden bowed down low to the ear of her mistress.  “Your eyes seek in vain for him whom you love.  You suffer, for you know not where he is.”

“Yes, you are right,” cried Amelia.  “I suffer the anguish of uncertainty.  If I do not soon learn where he is, I shall die in despair.”

“Shall I tell you, princess?”

Amelia turned pale and trembled.  “You will not say that he is in his grave?” said she, breathlessly.

“No, your highness, he lives and is well.”

“He lives, is well, and comes not?”