"I suffer a thousand times more than I can tell you; nevertheless, hope does not abandon me. I received your letter of the 14th by W----. What kindness to think of me, who have nothing to give but a useless affection, which is so richly repaid by yours! I am obliged to finish; but I shall never cease to be, with the most profound respect [_tres profond_ respect--that, and something still better, if my poor pen were not embarrassed]--your "WILHELMINA." On other discomforting rumours coming to the ears of the Margravine she writes:-- "_Baireuth, 15th October, 1757._ "MY DEAR BROTHER,--Death and a thousand torments could not equal the frightful state I am in. There run reports that make me shudder. Some say you are wounded; others, dangerously ill. In vain have I tormented myself to have news of you; I can get none. Oh, my dear brother, come what may, I will not survive you. If I am to continue in this frightful uncertainty, I cannot stand it; I shall sink under it, and then I shall be happy. I have been on the point of sending you a courier; but (environed as we are) I durst not. In the name of God bid somebody write me one word. "I know not what I have written; my heart is torn in pieces; I feel that by dint of disquietude and alarms I am losing my wits. Oh, my dear adorable brother, have pity on me! Heaven grant I be mistaken, and that you may scold me; but the least thing that concerns you pierces me to the heart, and alarms my affection too much. Might I die a thousand times, provided you lived and were happy! "I can say no more. Grief chokes me; and I can only repeat that your fate shall be mine; being, my dear brother, your "WILHELMINA." The day following she writes to Voltaire:-- "_16th October, 1757._ "Overwhelmed by sufferings of mind and body, I am able only to write a little letter. You will find one enclosed herewith which will reward you a hundred-fold for my brevity. Our situation is always the same. A grave is the extent of our view. Although everything seems lost, things remain to us which cannot be taken away; they are fortitude and the sentiments of the heart. Be persuaded of our gratitude, and of all the sentiments which you deserve by your attachment and way of thinking, worthy of a true philosopher. "WILHELMINA." The following letter from Frederick crossed the previous one from his sister:-- "_Eilenburg, 17th October, 1757._ "MY DEAREST SISTER,--What is the good of philosophy unless we employ it in the disagreeable moments of life? It is then, my dear sister, that courage and firmness avail us. "I am now in motion; and having once got into that, you may calculate I shall not think of sitting down again, except under improved omens. If outrage irritates even cowards, what will it do to hearts that have courage?