“The more the reason, my noble zealot, to win her friendship, who will have validity and power until the crown prince reigns, and this old godless freethinker of a king is in his gravel Then Prussia will commence a new era, and we shall be lords, and guide the machine of state. For such lofty aims one ought to be ready to compromise with his Satanic majesty even. Then why not with this little she-devil, whose power is fading every year with her youth and beauty?” “It is quite true, we should be mindful of the device of our Invisible Fathers. The end sanctifies the means,” sighed Woellner. “I believe it to be indispensable, and you will grant that I am right. Do you not see that the prince has availed himself of our absence to go there, and has not yet returned?” “What!” shrieked Woellner, clasping his hands--“you do not mean that--” “That Rinaldo has returned to the enchanted garden of Armida.” “Oh, let us hasten to release him at once, and revue his soul from perdition!” cried Woellner, springing up. “On the contrary, let us await him here without a word of reproach upon his return. This will touch his tender heart which we must work upon, if we would get him into our power, for to us he must belong. Fill our glasses with the sparkling wine, and drink to the contract with Wilhelmine Enke.” Just as merrily they quaffed the champagne in the little cosy dining-room at Charlottenburg, where the prince and Wilhelmine were rejoicing over a reconciliation, no one being present but the two children. Their joyous laugh and innocent jests delighted the father, and the beaming eyes, sweet smile, and witty conversation of his favorite, filled his heart with pleasure. Not a word of reproach escaped her, but exultant and joyous she hastened with outstretched arms to meet him, kissing away all his attempts to implore pardon, and thanking him that he had returned to her. At first the prince gave himself up to the joy of the reunion with his beloved Wilhelmine sad children; but now, as the first outburst had passed, the quiet, happy dinner being finished, and they had returned to the sitting-room, a tinge of melancholy earnestness overshadowed his amiable face. Wilhelmine threw her arms gently around his neck as she sat beside him upon the divan, and looked up to him with a tender questioning glance. “Your thoughts are veiled, dearest; will you not confide to me that which lies concealed there?” “Ah, Wilhelmine, it is a mourning veil, and hides the sorrow of renunciation.” “I do not understand you, Frederick,” she smilingly replied. “Who could compel you to an abnegation which would cause you grief?” “Listen to me, Wilhelmine, and understand that I am suffering from circumstances--an oath taken in the pressure of the moment. Try to comprehend me, my dear child.” Drawing her closer to him, he faithfully related to her the night of the communion of the spirits, and his consequent oath.