The king fixed a clear and piercing glance for one moment upon his sister, then stood up, and, assuming an earnest and thoughtful mien, he said:  “I stand now before you, princess, not as a king, but as the ambassador of a king.  Princess Amelia, through me the King of Denmark asks your hand; he wishes to wed you, and I have given my consent.  Your approval alone is wanting, and I think you will not refuse it.”

The princess listened with silent and intrepid composure; not a muscle of her face trembled; her features did not lose for one moment their expression of quiet resolve.

“Have you finished, sire?” said she, indifferently.

“I have finished, and I await your reply.”

“Before I answer, allow me to make known my own request.  Perhaps what I may say may modify your wishes.  You will, at least, know if it is proper for me to accept the hand of the King of Denmark.  Does your majesty allow me to speak?”

“Speak,” said the king, seating himself near her.

After a short pause, Amelia said, in an earnest, solemn voice:  “Sire, I pray for pardon for the Baron Frederick von Trenck.”  Yielding to an involuntary agitation, she glided from the divan upon her knees, and raising her clasped hands entreatingly toward her brother, she repeated:  “Sire, I pray for pardon for Baron Frederick von Trenck!”

The king sprang up, dashed back the hands of his sister violently, and rushed hastily backward and forward in the room.

Amelia, ashamed of her own humility, rose quickly from her knees, and, as if to convince herself of her own daring and resolution, she stepped immediately in front of the king, and said, in a loud, firm voice for the third time:  “Sire, I pray for pardon for Baron Frederick von Trenck.  He is wretched because he is banished from his home; he is in despair because he receives no justice from the courts of law, it being well known that he has no protector to demand his rights.  He is poor and almost hopeless because the courts have refused him the inheritance of his cousin, the captain of the pandours whose enemies have accused him since his death, only while they lusted for his millions.  His vast estate has been confiscated, under the pretence that it was unlawfully acquired.  But these accusations have not been established; and yet, now that he is dead, they refuse to give up this fortune to the rightful heir, Frederick von Trenck.  Sire, I pray that you will regard the interests of your subject.  Be graciously pleased to grant him the favor of your intercession.  Help him, by one powerful word, to obtain possession of his rights.  Ah, sire, you see well how modest, how faint-hearted I have become.  I ask no longer for happiness!  I beg for gold, and I think, sire, we owe him this pitiful reparation for a life’s happiness trodden under foot.”

Frederick by a mighty effort succeeded in overcoming his rage.  He was outwardly as calm as his sister; but both concealed under this cool, indifferent exterior a strong energy, an unfaltering purpose.  They were quiet because they were inflexible.