ver forsake you, and only
death shall separate me from you," repeated the prince, as he bent over
Wilhelmine, lifting her in his arms and placing her upon his knee. "Take
the paper and guard it carefully," said he. "When I die, and you have
closed my eyes, as I trust you will, give this paper to my son and
successor, for it is my legacy to you, and I hope my son will honor it
and recognize in you the wife of my heart, and care for you."

"Oh! speak not of dying, Frederick," cried Wilhelmine, embracing him
tenderly; "may they condemn me, and imprison me as a criminal, when you
are no more! What matters it to me what befalls me, when I no longer
possess you, my beloved one, my master? Not on that account will I
preserve the precious paper, but for the love which it has given me,
and of which it will one day be a proof to my children. This paper is my
justification and my excuse, my certificate and my declaration of honor.
I thank you for it, for it is the most beautiful present that I have
ever received."

"But will you make me no return, Wilhelmine? Will you not swear to me,
as I have sworn to you?"

She took the knife from the table without answering, and pointing it to
her left arm--

"Oh, not there!" cried the prince, as he sought to stay her hand. "Do
not injure your beautiful arm, it would be a sacrilege."

Wilhelmine freed herself from him, as he sought to hold her fast, and
in the mutual struggle the knife sank deep into her left hand, the blood
gushing out. [Footnote: The scar of this wound remained her whole life,
as Wilhelmine relates in her memoirs.--See "Memoires of the Countess
Lichtenau."]

"Oh, what have you done?" cried the prince, terrified; "You are
wounded!"

He seized her hand and drew the knife from the wound, screaming with
terror as a clear stream of blood flowed over his own. "A physician!
Send quickly for a physician," cried he. "Where are my servants?"

Wilhelmine closed his lips at this instant with a kiss, and forced
herself to smile in spite of the pain which the wound caused her.
"Dearest, it is nothing," she cried. "I have only prepared a great
inkstand--let me write!"

She dipped her pen in the blood, which continued to flow, and wrote
quickly a few lines, handing them to the prince.

"Read aloud what you have written. I will hear from your own mouth your
oath. You shall write it upon my heart with your lips."

Wilhelmine read: "By my love, by the heads of my two children, I