At the break of day, about four o’clock, the King arrived with the two eldest sons. The sky was overcast. Having been advised of the certainty of her death the King was completely crushed with grief. When her grandmother said that with God nothing is impossible, the bitter words escaped him: “Ah! if she were not mine she would live; but as she is my wife, she is sure to die.” When he entered her room she said with a feeble voice: “My dear friend, how happy I am to see you!” Though the King made the greatest effort he could not completely control his grief. “Am I then so dangerously ill?” she asked him. After he had somewhat reassured her, she asked again: “Who came with you?” “Fritz and William,” answered the King. “Oh, how happy I am!” she said, while her hand trembled in his. “I will fetch them,” he cried, hardly able to master his feelings. He immediately returned leading both sons to their mother’s bedside. “Ah, dear Fritz, dear William, are you here?” she said to them. They wept aloud, went out, and returned when the paroxysm of her pain had subsided. In the meantime it had come to be nearly nine o’clock. A new paroxysm came on. “Air! air!” gasped the Queen. The doctor came in and tried to raise her arms, but she was not able to keep them there, and as they sank she said: “Ah, nothing can help me but death!” The King sat beside her and held her right hand. Her sister, the Princess Solms, kneeling in front of her, had grasped her left hand. Her weary head rested on the bosom of her friend Madame von Berg. At ten minutes before nine, July 19, 1810, came the last seizure of pain. Louise bent her head gently back, closed her eyes, and cried: “Lord Jesus, take me quickly!” Five minutes later she had breathed her life away in a last deep sigh. The King had sunk back, but now drew himself quickly together and, amid kisses and tears, closed the eyes of his Louise, “his life’s star, which had guided him so faithfully our life’s dark journey,” as the poet sang. Then he hurried out and brought his two sons, who, weeping bitterly, kissed the hands of their departed mother. The beautiful features of the Queen were not in the least distorted. Death seemed to glorify her countenance. Her mouth bore an expression of victory and peace. The features of “the most beautiful woman in the King’s lands” have been preserved by Rauch’s master hand in the marble monument which he was later commissioned to chisel for her tomb in Charlottenburg.