did you see?" said the queen, angrily. "What do you refer to? Do
not speak any longer in riddles, if you please."

"Your majesty, I have glanced at the pamphlets and journals lying there,
and request you not to insist to-day on my reading to you the articles
contained in them."

"Ah, that is it!" exclaimed Louisa, laying both her hands on the
periodicals which the countess seemingly wished to withhold from her.
"These contain the slanders. I must know what they are. Read them to me,
countess." And the queen folded her arms with a resolute air.

"Have mercy on me, your majesty! I am really afraid--my lips cannot
easily recite those vile lines, and your majesty, besides, will be angry
with me for complying."

"No, no," exclaimed the queen, impatiently, "I am not angry with you.
You only did your duty in calling my attention to these things, and
having taken upon yourself the task of being my reader, perform it now!
What pamphlets are those sent to us?"

"Your majesty," said the countess, in an embarrassed tone of voice,
"there is, first, a pamphlet entitled 'A True Account of the Interview
of the Emperor Alexander with the King of Prussia at the Grave of
Frederick the Great.'"

"Read it," replied the queen, dryly, "it is always good to listen to the
true account of events in which we have taken part." And without
uttering a word--without even a frown, she listened to the comments on
the scene at the grave of Frederick. They were malicious and scornful,
representing it as a farce.

"Well," said the queen, when the countess had finished, "if that is the
worst, I feel at ease again. We must submit to abuse, and I sincerely
pardon all those who expose me to the derision of the world by depicting
me as a martial Joan of Arc. It has not been permitted me to live
quietly in the shade of domestic happiness. A queen stands alone on a
summit; she is seen and watched by every one, and it is, therefore, but
natural that she should be hated and abused more relentlessly than other
women, particularly if she be unhappy. For sovereigns are never
pardoned, although they are subject to human failings, and their
misfortunes are always regarded as their own faults. Let the malicious,
therefore, deride us as much as they please; the good will only love and
respect us the more. Proceed, countess! What else did we receive?"

"Nothing, your majesty, but a few numbers of the _Telegraph_."

"Ah, read them," exclaimed the queen. "I know t