“Am I not also called upon to learn to forget?” cried Ernestine, bitterly.  “Is not my life’s happiness destroyed?  Am I not eternally separated from my beloved?  Alas! princess, you are much happier than I!  You know where, at least in thought, you can find your unhappy friend.  Not the faintest sound in the distance gives answer to my wild questionings.  My thoughts are wandering listlessly, wearily.  They know not where to seek my lover—­whether he lies in the dark fortress, or in the prison-house of the grave.”

“It is true,” said Amelia, thoughtfully; “our fates are indeed pitiable!  Oh, Ernestine, what have I not suffered in the last five years, during which I have not seen Trenck?—­five years of self-restraint, of silence, of desolation!  How often have I believed that I could not support my secret griefs—­that death must come to my relief!  How often, with rouged cheeks and laughing lips, conversing gayly with the glittering court circle whose centre my cruel brother forced me to be, have my troubled thoughts wandered far, far away to my darling; from whom the winds brought me no message, the stars no greeting; and yet I knew that he lived, and loved me still!  If Trenck were dead, he would appear to me in spirit.  Had he forgotten me, I should know it; the knowledge would pierce my heart, and I should die that instant.  I know that he has written to me, and that all his dear letters have fallen into the hands of the base spies with which my brother has surrounded me.  But I am not mad!  I will be calm; a day may come in which Trenck may require my help.  I will not slay myself; some day I may be necessary to him I love.  I have long lived, as the condemned in hell, who, in the midst of burning torture, open both eyes and ears waiting for the moment when the blessed Saviour will come for their release.  God has at last been merciful; He has blinded the eyes of my persecutors, and this letter came safely to my hands.  Oh, Ernestine, look! look! a letter from Trenck!  He loves me—­he has not forgotten me—­he calls for me!  Oh, my God! my God! why has fate bound me so inexorably?  Why was I born to a throne, whose splendor has not lighted my path, but cast me in the shadow of death?  Why am I not poor and obscure?  Then I might hasten to my beloved when he calls me.  I might stand by his side in his misfortunes, and share his sorrows and his tears.”

“Dear princess, you can alleviate his fate.  Look at me!  I am poor, obscure, and dependent, and yet I cannot hasten to my beloved; he is in distress, and yet he does not call upon me for relief.  He knows that I cannot help him.  You, princess, thanks to your rank, have power and influence.  Trenck calls you, and you are here to aid and comfort.”