u despise the poor humble heart which laid itself at your
feet. Yes, yes, I cannot compete with this man, who is a prince and the
brother of a king; who--"

"Who is my husband," cried she, proudly, "and who, while he loves me,
dares ask that I shall accept his love."

"Ah, now you are angry with me," stammered the count; "you--"

"Hush!" whispered she, "do you not see the prince? Do laugh! Bow down
and give the swans these flowers!"

The count took the flowers, and as he gave them to the swans, he
whispered:

"Give me at least a sign that you are not angry, and that you do not
love the prince. Throw this hated bouquet, which has taken the place of
mine, into the water; it is like a poisoned arrow in my heart."

"Hush!" whispered the princess. She turned and gave the prince a
friendly welcome.

Prince Henry was so happy in her presence, and so dazzled by her beauty,
that he did not remark the melancholy of the count, and spoke with him
gayly and jestingly, while the count mastered himself, and replied in
the same spirit.

The princess bowed down to the swans, whom she enticed once more with
caresses to the borders of the lake. Suddenly she uttered a loud cry,
and called to the two gentlemen for help. The great white swan had torn
the camelias from the bosom of the princess, and sailed off proudly upon
the clear waters of the lake.

CHAPTER V. INTRIGUES.

While Prince Henry celebrated Arcadian fetes at Rheinsberg, and
gave himself up to love and joy, King Frederick lived in philosophic
retirement at Sans-Souci. He came to Berlin only to visit the
queen-mother, now dangerously ill, or to attend the meetings of his
cabinet ministers. Never had the king lived so quietly, never had he
received so few guests at Sans-Souci, and, above all, never had the
world so little cause to speak of the King of Prussia. He appeared
content with the laurels which the two Silesian wars had placed upon his
heroic brow, and he only indulged the wish that Europe, exhausted by
her long and varied wars, would allow him that rest and peace which the
world at large seemed to enjoy. Those who were honored with invitations
to Sans-Souci, and had opportunities to see the king, could only speak
of that earthly paradise; of the peaceful stillness which reigned
there, and which was reflected in every countenance; of Frederick's calm
cheerfulness and innocent enjoyment.

"The king thinks no more of politics," said the frolicsome Berli