“Sister,” said he aloud, “if you have indeed something to say to your brother, and not to the king, I counsel you not to speak now.  I have so much to do and hear as a king, I have no time to act another part.  Is what yon have to say to me truly important?  Does it relate to a rare jewel, or a costly robe?—­to some debt, which your pin-money does not suffice to meet?—­in short, to any one of those great matters which completely fill the heart of a young maiden?  If so, I advise you to confide in our mother.  If she makes your wishes known to me, you are sure to receive no denial.  It is decidedly better for a young girl to turn to her mother with her little wishes and mysteries.  If they are innocent, her mother will ever promote them; if they are guilty, a mother’s anger will be more restrained and milder than a brother’s ever can be.”

“You will not even listen to me, my brother?” said the princess, sobbing violently.

The king threw a quick glance backward toward the door opening into the corridor, where the cavaliers and maids of honor were assembled, and looking curiously into the room of the princess.

“No!  I will not listen to you,” said he, in a low tone; “but you shall listen to me!  You shall not act a drama at my court; you shall not give the world a cause for scandal; you shall not exhibit yourself with red and swollen eyes; that might be misinterpreted.  It might be said that the sister of the king did not rejoice at the return of her brother; that she was not patriot enough to feel happy at Prussia’s release from the burdens of war, not patriot enough to despise and forget the enemies of her country!  I command you to be gay, to conceal your childish grief.  A princess dare not weep, or, if she does, it must be under the shadow of night, when God only is with her.  This is my counsel and reproof, and I beg you to lay it to heart.  I will not command you to accompany me, your eyes are red with weeping.  Remain, then, in your room, and that the time may not pass heavily, I hand you this letter, which I have received for you.”

He drew a sealed letter from his bosom, handed it to Amelia, and left the room.

“Let us go,” said he, nodding to his courtiers; “the princess is unwell, and cannot accompany us.”

Mademoiselle von Haak hastened again to the boudoir.  “Has your royal highness spoken to the king?”

She shook her head silently, and with trembling hands tore open the letter given her by the king.  Breathlessly she fixed her eyes upon the writing, uttered one wild shriek, and fell insensible upon the floor.  This was the last letter she had written to Trenck, and upon the margin the king had written this one word, “Read.”  The king then knew all; he had read the letter; he knew of her engagement to Trenck, knew how she loved him, and he had no mercy.  For this was he condemned.  He had given her this letter to prove to her that she had nothing to hope; that Trenck was punished, not for high treason against the state, but because he was the lover of the princess.