g image presented itself, the image of
her first and only love! She lived over again the day when it rose up
like a sun before her wondering, admiring gaze, and yet it was a stormy
day for her. Sophie was very angry with her, because in crimping her
hair she had burnt her cheek, which turned the fairy into a fury. She
threw the weak child upon the floor, and beat and stamped upon her.

Suddenly a loud, angry voice commanded her to cease, and a strong, manly
arm raised the trembling, weeping girl, and with threatening tone bade
Sophie be quiet. Prince Frederick William of Prussia took compassion on
the poor child. The sister had not remarked him in her paroxysm of
rage; had never heard him enter. He had been a witness to Wilhelmine's
ill-treatment. He now defended her, blaming her sister for her cruelty
to her, and declared his intention to be her future protector. How
handsome he looked; how noble in his anger; how his eyes flashed as he
gazed upon her, who knelt at his feet, and kissed them, looking up to
him as her rescuer!

"Wilhelmine, come with me; I do not wish you to remain here," said he;
"your sister will never forgive you that I have taken your part. Come,
I will take you to your parents, and provide for you. You shall be as
beautiful and accomplished a lady as your sister, but, Heaven grant, a
more generous and noble-hearted one! Come!"

These words, spoken with a gentle, winning voice, had never died away
in her heart. Twelve years had passed since then, and they still rang
in her ear, in the tumult of the world as well as in the quiet of her
lonely room. They had comforted her when the shame of her existence
oppressed her; rejoiced her when, with the delight of youth and
happiness, she had given herself up to pleasure. She had followed him
quietly, devotedly, as a little dog follows his master. He had kept his
word; he had had her instructed during three years, and then sent her to
Paris, in order to give her the last polish, the tournure of the world,
however much it had cost him to separate from her, or might embarrass
him, with his scanty means, to afford the increase of expense. A year
elapsed and Wilhelmine returned a pleasing lady, familiar with the tone
of the great world, and at home in its manners and customs.

The prince had kept his word--that which he had promised her as he took
her from her sister's house, to make her a fine, accomplished lady. And
when he repeated to her now "Come," could s