On December 23, 1809, the same day on which, sixteen years before, she had made her first triumphal entry into Berlin, she now returned after an absence of two years and two months. In the meanwhile Berlin had been treated as the capital of a French province, and Louise found that her apartments had been occupied by insolent French generals. The rejoicings of the inhabitants over the return of their King and Queen were exuberant. The Queen with the younger children drove in a magnificent carriage which the citizens of Berlin had given her. The King was on horseback; the Princes Frederick and William followed as officers of the guard with their regiments. The City Council hoped that Their Majesties would give the citizens the pleasure of attending the gala performance at the theatre in the evening. “No,” said the King, “the first place I visit in Berlin shall be the church.” Not until the following Monday did he appear with his family at the opera house, where they were greeted with great enthusiasm, and many eyes filled with tears at the sight of the beloved King and “the partner of his sorrows.” Many Prussians vowed, as they saw their Queen again, that they would not rest until they had caused those angelic eyes, which had so often filled with tears over Bonaparte’s insults and injuries, to shine with joy over Prussian victories. During the occupation of Berlin by the French, all mention of the Queen and any celebration in her honor had been strictly forbidden by the commandant. Nevertheless, on her birthday, the famous actor Iffland appeared on the stage at the evening performance wearing a rose and induced the other actors to do likewise. The audience immediately guessed what the roses meant, and cheered the Queen. Iffland suffered the penalty of a few days’ arrest for this. The Queen summoned him to her presence at the theatre to express her gratitude and appreciation. Later the King bestowed on him the order of the Red Eagle. Immediately after her return, Louise remembered another worthy man, who had stood for the truth when nearly all were bowing before the conquerors and allowing the most shameful scandals against the Queen to be circulated. Upon a certain occasion the local authorities of Berlin were being presented to the French Emperor, and he broke out in abusive complaints against the Queen. The reverend Dr. Ermann interrupted him abruptly with the words: “Sire, that is not true.” The despot hastily turned to the miscreant who had dared to tax him with the lie, but when he saw the tall, venerable figure of the old clergyman and looked into his earnest face, he remained silent and confused and said not another word about the Queen. The King also honored Ermann with an order; but Louise arose from the dinner-table at which the excellent man was a guest and went to him, glass in hand, to greet him, saying: “I cannot deny myself the pleasure of drinking to the knight, who, when all kept silence, had the