“You are most welcome in your double character,” she said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the king and all around her.  “Until to-day, you have been my beloved brother; and from this time will you be to me, as also to my husband, a dear son.  By the decrees of Providence a son has been denied me; I accept you, therefore, joyfully, and receive you as my son and brother.”

A profound silence followed these words; here and there in the crowd, slight and derisive smiles were seen, and a few whispered and significant words were uttered.  The queen had now received the last and severest blow; in the fulness and maturity of her beauty she had been placed before the court as unworthy or incapable of giving a successor to the throne; but she still wished to save appearances:  she would, if possible, make the world believe that the decree of Providence alone denied to her a mother’s honors.  She had the cruel courage to conceal the truth by prevarication.

The watchful eyes of the court had long since discovered the mystery of this royal marriage:  they had long known that the queen was not the wife of Frederick; her words, therefore, produced contemptuous surprise.

Elizabeth cared for none of these things.  She looked toward her husband, whose eyes were fixed upon her; she would read in his countenance if he were pleased with her words.  A smile played upon the lips of the king, and he bowed his head almost imperceptibly as a greeting to his wife.

A golden ray of sunlight seemed to play upon her face; content was written in her eyes; twice to-day her glance had met her husband’s, and both times his eyes had spoken.  Elizabeth was happier than she had been for many days; she laughed and jested with the ladies, and conversed gayly over the great event of the evening—­the first appearance of the Signora Barbarina.  The princesses, also, conversed unceremoniously with the ladies near them.  A cloud darkened the usually clear brow of the Princess Amelia, and she seemed to be in a nervous and highly excited state.

At this moment the master of ceremonies, Pollnitz, drew near, with Count Tessin, the Swedish ambassador.  The princess immediately assumed so scornful an expression, that even Pollnitz scarcely found courage to present Count Tessin.

“Ah! you come from Sweden,” said Amelia, immediately after the presentation.  “Sweden is a dark and gloomy country, and you have indeed done well to save yourself, by taking refuge in our gay and sunny clime.”

The count was evidently wounded.

“Your royal highness calls this a refuge,” said he; “you must, then, think those to be pitied who dwell in my fatherland?”

“I do not feel it necessary to confide my views on that subject to Count Tessin,” said Amelia, with a short, rude laugh.

“Yes, sister, it is necessary,” said Ulrica, with a magical smile, “you must justify yourself to the count, for you have cast contempt upon his country.”