“No, my brother, no, no!” cried Amelia, with wild, gushing tears.  “No; I have come to implore your pity, your mercy.”  Completely beside herself, mad with passion and pain, she fell upon her knees and raised her arms entreatingly to the king.  “Mercy, my brother, mercy!  Oh, spare my poor, martyred heart!  Leave me at least the liberty to complain and to be wretched!  Do not condemn me to marry Denmark!”

Frederick stepped backward, and his brow darkened; but he controlled his impatience, and drew near his sister with a kindly smile, and gently raising her from her knees, he led her to the divan.

“Come, Amelia, it does not become you to kneel to a man—­to God only should a princess kneel.  Let us be seated, and speak to each other as brother and sister should speak who love and wish to understand each other.”

“I am ready for all else, I will accommodate myself to all else—­ only be merciful!  Do not compel me to wed Denmark!”

“Ah, see, my sister, although you are struggling against me, how justly you comprehend your position!” said the king, mildly.  “You speak of wedding Denmark.  Your exalted and great destiny sleeps in these words.  A princess when she marries does not wed a man, but a whole people; she does not only make a man but a nation happy.  There are the weeping, whose tears she will dry; the poor, whose hunger she will assuage; the unhappy, to whom she will bring consolation; the sick and dying, with whom she will pray.  There is a whole people advancing to meet her with shouts of gladness, stretching out their hands, and asking for love.  God has blessed the hearts of queens with the power to love their subjects, because they are women.  Oh, my sister, this is a great, a noble destiny which Providence offers you—­to be the beneficent, mediating, smiling angel, standing ever by the side of a king—­a bond of love between a king and his subjects!  Truly one might well offer up their poor, pitiful wishes, their own personal happiness, for such a noble destiny.”

“I have no more happiness to offer up,” sighed Amelia.  “I have no happiness; I do not ask so much.  I plead for the poor right of living for my great sorrow—­of being faithful to myself.”

“He only is faithful to himself who lives to discharge his duties,” said the king.  “He only is true to himself who governs himself, and if he cannot be happy, at least endeavors to make others so, and this vocation of making others happy is the noblest calling for a woman; by this shall she overcome her selfishness and find comfort, strength, and peace.  And who, my sister, can say that he is happy?  Our life consists in unfulfilled wishes, vain hopes destroyed, ideals, and lost illusions.  Look at me, Amelia.  Have I ever been happy?  Do you believe that there is a day of my life I would live over?  Have I not, from my earliest youth, been acquainted with grief, self-denial, and pain?  Are not all the blossoms of my life broken?  Am