The Princess Amelia had withdrawn from the crowd into a window recess.  She was breathless and exhausted from the dance and the excitement of the last few days.  She required a few moments of rest, of refreshment, and meditation.  She drew the heavy silk curtains carefully together, and seated herself upon the little tabouret which stood in the recess.  This quiet retreat, this isolation from the thoughtless crowd, brought peace to her soul.  It was happiness to close her weary eyes, and indulge in sweet dreams to the sound of this glorious music; to feel herself shut off from the laughing, heartless crowd.

She leaned her lovely head upon the cushion, not to sleep but to dream.  She thought of her sister, who would soon place a crown upon her head; who had sold herself for this crown to a man whom she had never seen, and of whom she knew nothing, but that he was heir to a throne.  Amelia shuddered at the thought that Ulrica had sacrificed her religion to this man, whom she knew not, and had promised at God’s altar to love and be faithful to him.  In the purity and innocence of her girlish heart she considered this a crime, a sacrilege against love, truth, and faith.  “I will never follow Ulrica’s example,” she whispered to herself.  “I will never sell myself.  I will obey the dictates of my heart and give myself to the man I love.”  As she said this, a crimson glow overspread her cheeks, and she opened her eyes wide, as if she hoped to see the man she loved before her, and wished him to read in her steady glance the sweet confirmation of the words she had so lightly whispered.

“No, no!  I will never marry without love.  I love, and as there can be but one true love in a true life, I shall never marry—­then—­” She ceased and bowed her head upon her bosom, her trembling lips refused to speak the hope and dream of her heart, to give words to the wild, passionate thoughts which burned like lava in her breast, and, like the wild rush of many waters, drowned her reason.  She thought that in the eloquence of her great love she might touch the heart of the king, and in the magnanimity of his soul he might allow her to be happy, to place a simple myrtle-wreath upon her brow.  She repeated the friendly and admiring words which the king had spoken to her lover.  She saw again those wondrous eyes resting with interest and admiration upon the splendid form of the young baron.  A happy, playful smile was on her lip.  “The king himself finds him handsome and attractive; he cannot then wonder that his sister shares his opinion.  He will think it natural that I love him—­that—­ "

A wild storm of applause in the saloon interrupted the current of her thoughts.  She drew the curtains slightly apart, and gazed into the room.  The second quadrille was ended, and the dancers were now sinking upon the tabourets, almost breathless from fatigue.

The princess could not only see, but she could hear.  Two ladies stood just in front of the curtains behind which she was concealed, engaged in earnest conversation; they spoke of Frederick von Trenck; they were enraptured with his athletic form and glowing eyes.