"I wish what the king cannot, what only the man can grant. I wish you to love me as dearly as the prince royal loved me. I crave no riches and no treasures, no titles and no estates. When we swore that we would love and be true to each other until death, you did not dare to think that you would some day reward me for my love. When we exchanged our vows of love and fidelity, written with our blood, this was the marriage contract of our hearts, and this contract consisted of but one paragraph. It only secured to each of us the love and fidelity of the other as a dower. Let me retain this dower, Frederick William; keep your treasures, titles, and estates, for your favorites and flatterers. Such things are good enough for them, but not for me--not for the mother of your children! Leave me in possession of my dower of your love and fidelity!" Frederick lowered his eyes in confusion, and did not seem to see her stretch out her arms imploringly. He turned away and walked slowly to and fro. Wilhelmine's arms sank down, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. "The decisive hour has come," said she to herself. "It shall find me armed and prepared for the struggle!" Suddenly the king stopped in front of her, and a ray of determination beamed in his genial, handsome countenance. "Wilhelmine," said he, "I stand on the threshold of a great and sublime future. I will not act a lie at such a time. Between us there must be perfect and entire truth. Are you ready to hear it?" "I am ready," said she, gravely. "Truth and death are preferable to life and falsehood." "Come, Wilhelmine," continued the king, extending his hand. "Let us seat ourselves on the sofa, where we have so often conversed in earnestness and sincerity. Let us converse in the same spirit to-day, and open our hearts to each other in honest sincerity." He conducted her to the sofa, and seated himself at her side. She laid her head on his shoulder, and subdued sobs escaped her breast.