“I accept your oath, dearest,” said the prince, pressing her to his heart. “This paper is one of my choicest jewels, and I will never separate myself from it. We have now sealed our love and fidelity with our blood, and I hope that you will never doubt me again. Remember this hour!” “I will,” she earnestly promised, “and I swear to you never to torment and torture you again with my jealousy. I shall always know, and shall hold fast to it, that you will return to me.” A violent knocking on the house door interrupted the stillness of the night. A voice in loud, commanding tones called to the night-watch. “Here I am!” answered the porter. “Who calls me? And what is the matter?” “Open the door,” commanded the voice again. “It is our house,” whispered Wilhelmine, who had softly opened the window. “It is so dark, I can only see a black shadow before the door.” “Do you belong to the house?” asked the night-watch. “I dare let no one in who does not belong there.” “Lift up your lantern, and look at my livery. It is at the king’s order!” Wilhelmine withdrew from the window, and hastened to the prince, who had retired to the back part of the room. “It is Kretzschmar, the king’s footman and spy,” she whispered. “Hide yourself, that he does not discover you. Go there to the children.” “No, Wilhelmine, I will remain here. I--” Wilhelmine pressed her hand upon his mouth, and forced him into the side-room, bolting the door. “Now,” said she, “I will meet my fate with courage; whatever may come, it shall find me firm and composed. My children are safe, for their father is with them.” She took the light, and hastened into the anteroom, which was resounding with the loud ringing. “Who is there?” she cried. “Who rings so late at night?” “In the name of the king, open!” Wilhelmine shoved back the bolt, opening the door. “Come in,” she said, “and tell me who you are.” “I think you recognize me,” said Kretzschmar, with an impudent smile. “You have often seen me at Potsdam in company with the king. I saw you this morning as the king did you the honor to speak with you, and I believe did not compliment you.” “Did his majesty send you here to say this to me?” “No, not exactly that,” answered he, smiling; “but, as you asked me, I was obliged to answer. I have come here with all speed as courier from Potsdam. I hope you will at least give me a good trinkgeld. I was commanded to deliver into your own hands this paper, for which I must have a receipt.” He drew from his breast pocket a large sealed document, which he handed to Wilhelmine. “Here is the receipt all ready, with the pencil; you have only to sign your name, and the business is finished.” He stretched himself with an air of the greatest ease upon the cane chair, near the door. Wilhelmine colored with anger at the free conduct of the royal footman, and hastened to sign the receipt to rid herself of the messenger, and to read the letter.