“The letters swim before my eyes in inextricable confusion.  My God, how hard it is to do one’s duty!”

He rested his head on his hand, and was lost in thought for a long time.  Gradually his expression brightened, and a wondrous light beamed in his eyes.

“Yes,” said he, with a smile, “yes, so it shall be.  I have just lost a much-loved sister.  Well, it is customary to erect a monument in memory of those we love.  Poor, lost sister, I will erect a monument to your memory.  The king has been compelled to make his sister unhappy, and for this he will endeavor to make his people happy.  And if there is no law to which a princess can appeal against the king, there shall at least be laws for all my subjects, which protect them, and are in strict accordance with reason, with justice, and the godly principle of equality.  Yes, I will give my people a new code of laws. [Footnote:  Rodenbeck, Diary, p. 137.] This, Amelia, shall be the monument which I will erect to you in my heart.  In this very hour I will write to Cocceji, and request him to sketch the outlines of this new code of laws.”

The king seized his pen and commenced writing.  “The judges,” said he, hastily penning his words, “the judges must administer equal and impartial justice to all without respect to rank or wealth, as they expect to answer for the same before the righteous judgment-seat of God, and in order that the sighs of the widows and orphans, and of all that are oppressed, may not be visited upon themselves and their children.  No rescripts, although issued from this cabinet, shall be deemed worthy of the slightest consideration, if they contain aught manifestly incompatible with equity, or if the strict course of justice is thereby hindered or interrupted; but the judges shall proceed according to the dictates of duty and conscience.”

The king continued writing, his countenance becoming more and more radiant with pleasure, while his pen flew over the paper.  He was so completely occupied with his thoughts that he did not hear the door open behind him, and did not perceive the merry and intelligent face of his favorite, General Rothenberg, looking in.

The king wrote on.  Rothenberg stooped and placed something which he held in his arms on the floor.  He looked over toward the king, and then at the graceful little greyhound which stood quietly before him.  This was no other than the favorite dog of the king, which had been lost and a captive. [Footnote:  The greyhound had fallen into the hands of the Austrians at the battle of Sohr, and had been presented by General Nadasti to his wife as a trophy.  When this lady learned that Biche had been a pet of the king, she at first refused to give it up:  and only after several demands, and with much difficulty, could she be induced to return it.  Rodenbeck, Diary, p. 126.]

The little Biche stood still for a moment, looking around intelligently, and then ran lightly across the apartment, sprang upon the table and laid its forepaw on the king’s neck.