By a strange coincidence, the Prince Royal of Würtemberg had been similarly compelled to contract a marriage against his inclination. Napoleon’s will, all-powerful at that time over the king’s mind, united the son, in spite of himself, to a Bavarian princess, a political alliance intended to make an end of all dissensions between the two states. From the first day of their union an unconquerable estrangement and a constant coolness had sprung up between the young couple, and consequently, at the fall of Napoleon, they were divorced. The Princess Charlotte of Bavaria returned to her father’s Court. Unappreciated by a husband whose affection she had been unable to gain, she never uttered a word of reproach; her angelic temper and her unalterable kindness never failed her. Later on, the imperial crown of Austria was offered to her,[84] and eventually she shared one of the most powerful thrones of Europe. When her first husband learnt the news of the unexpected elevation of the woman he had neglected, but whose noble heart he had never misjudged, he exclaimed, ‘I’ll have, at any rate, one more friend at the Court of Vienna.’ Catherine of Russia and Wilhelm of Würtemberg both became free. From that moment a mutual and strong affection took possession of their hearts, which, constrained so long by the will of others, had learnt to appreciate the delights of natural attraction. How often in the shady glades of the Prater, or on the banks of the majestic stream flowing at its foot, have I seen them, emancipated for a little while from the etiquette of Courts, and yielding like ordinary mortals to the feeling that animated them. Far from the pomp and splendour of their ordinary surroundings, they perhaps confidentially made plans for the future, in the hope of a union which bade fair to be happy--the prince, young, manly, with a noble disposition and reputed for his brilliant courage; the grand-duchess conspicuous for her intellectual and physical grace. Now and again a third came to interrupt this ‘dual solitude’; but his presence evidently made no difference; for the third comer was not only a brother, but a friend--no less a personage than Alexander himself, who appeared to be supping full with glory and happiness.