The breakfast was hardly over, the day had scarcely warmed, when the trumpeter on the tower announced the arrival of Duke Antony Ulrich and his son. They came with a numerous suite, ostensibly to offer their congratulations on the anniversary of the birthday of Sophie Dorothea, in reality to claim the fulfilment of her father’s half promise. The sight of the Duchess Sophia’s coach in the courtyard and the Hanoverian liveries filled Antony Ulrich with suspicions which were only too speedily confirmed. The young Princess, he found, was too much perturbed to receive their congratulations in person, her mother was shut up with her; but the Duke of Celle, accompanied by the Duchess Sophia, received the Wolfenbüttel princes with much ceremony, and without ado proceeded to inform them of the news of the betrothal of Sophie Dorothea to George Louis, and by way of adding insult to injury invited them to remain to the birthday feast, when the betrothal would be announced. Duke Antony Ulrich, mastering his indignation with an effort, was so much insulted at this shameless right-about-face that, ignoring the invitation, he at once returned to his coach, accompanied by his son, and shook the dust of Celle off his feet. It is difficult to call such a retreat dignified, yet he seems to have made it so, though he left the Duchess Sophia in possession of the field. George William, having got rid of his unwelcome guests, proceeded to the apartments of Sophie Dorothea on the troublesome errand of persuading his refractory daughter to put in an appearance and pay her respects to her aunt. He took with him a birthday present and a message of congratulation from the Duchess Sophia. The apartments of Sophie Dorothea consisted of three rooms leading from one another; the work-room or school-room, with two large windows overlooking the lime-trees on to the moat, the parlour, somewhat elaborately decorated, and the sleeping-room, with the bed in an alcove, and the superb carved mantelpiece, supported by four cupids. These rooms Sophie Dorothea had occupied from her infancy, and her work and all her little treasures were scattered about. The Duke’s resolution did not waver, though he found his daughter lying on the bed in a passion of grief, her mother by her side entreating her to be calm. Apparently her persuasions had not, so far, had much effect, for the temper with which Sophie Dorothea received her father may be gathered from the fact that when he gave her the Duchess Sophia’s present, a miniature of George Louis set in diamonds, she threw it from her with such violence that it was shattered against the wall, and the precious stones fell all about the room.