when mamselle sent me home from the
park. It is coming to a bad end at last; I should have done better not
to have taken the place at all. Oh, if we were only away from here; if I
only could find a wagon to take us!"

Thanks to the nurse's fears and endeavors, the wagon was soon found, and
scarcely an hour had passed before Wilhelmine Enke, her two children and
nurse, were hidden under a plain linen-covered wagon, and on their way
to Berlin.

The street was unusually animated, as the division of troops which the
king had reviewed in Berlin, were marching out of the city to report
themselves on the Bavarian frontier. Their first night's quarters were
to be in Potsdam, and the last great parade was to take place there on
the following morning, before the king commenced his journey. The driver
had often to halt at the side of the street to let the troops pass,
which with a full band of music, came marching on. At the head of one
of the regiments, mounted upon a fiery steed, was a general in brilliant
uniform, his breast covered with orders, which glittered in the sun. He
was tall and rather corpulent, but appeared to advantage. His carriage
was proud and imposing, his face was almost too youthful for a general,
and his body too corpulent for the expressive and delicate features. As
he passed by the poor, unpretending carriage, where Wilhelmine sat with
her children, she heard distinctly his beautiful, sonorous voice, and
merry laugh. "Oh Heaven, it is he!--it is he!" she murmured, drawing
herself farther back into the wagon with her children. Just then, out of
an opening in the linen cover, Louisa peeped, whispering, "Mamselle, it
is the Prince of Prussia!"

"Be quiet--for mercy's sake be quiet, Louisa, that we may not be
remarked!" said Wilhelmine, gently. "Take the child that he may not
scream, for if the prince should hear him he will turn back. He knows
the voice of his little son!"

"Yes, he knows the voice of his little son!" muttered the nurse, as
she laid the child to her breast. "The little son must stop here on
the street, in a miserable wagon, while his noble father rides past, so
splendid and glittering with gold, not knowing that his little boy is so
near him. Oh, a real trouble and a real heart-sorrow is this!"

"Indeed it is," said Wilhelmine, in her heart, "a real trouble and a
real heart-sorrow. How all these men would present arms, and salute my
children, if they had been born to a throne instead of