to the
wagon, "Halt--halt! Turn out of the way!" Then was heard the call of
the sentinel, and the roll of the drums. An equipage, drawn by six black
steeds, drove past. A pale, young wife, splendidly attired, leaned back
in the carriage, and the little flag-bearer, Prince Frederick William,
was by her side; on the seat opposite sat the second son, Prince Louis,
and the lord steward. In this beautiful equipage drove the Princess of
Prussia; at her side, in a miserable linen-covered wagon, crouching far
in the corner, sat Wilhelmine Enke, the rival of the princess; near her,
her two children, whose existence condemned her, and stamped her
life with dishonor. Like a dream the brilliant apparition rushed past
Wilhelmine, and it haunted her through the long streets, to the humble
home where she sought a temporary refuge. And when finally alone, in
her own room, where no one could spy into her face, nor understand her
words, there broke forth from her soul a long-repressed wrong. She stood
erect; a proud, insolent smile played around her mouth. "I am his wife,
too; I alone am his beloved wife," said she, with a loud, triumphant
voice, "and my children are his only truly-beloved children, for they
are those of his love. How proudly she drove past me! How beautiful is
her pale face, and how interesting her sad smile! She in sunlight, and
I in shade! She knows that I am her rival, but she is not mine. No, the
Princess of Prussia cannot rival Wilhelmine Enke. I have no fear of her.
But the king I have to fear," cried she suddenly, shrinking with terror.
In the meeting with the princess she had forgotten him, her anguish,
her anxiety for the future. All were forgotten for the moment--to be
recalled with renewed terror.

"Thank Heaven," she said, "I have escaped. For the moment I am safe!
What will the prince do, when he finds that we have fled from Potsdam?
Will he divine where we have gone? Will he come to seek me? If he still
loves me--if I am really the happy rival of his wife and every other
court lady--yes, then he will come. Then he will know where to find his
Wilhelmine. But if it is true, what malicious people have repeated to
me, with feigned sympathy, that the prince loves another--that he has
withdrawn his love from me, is indifferent and cold--then he will not
seek me; then I shall remain here alone!--alone, with my children, this
long, fearful night! What, then, if I am alone? No, oh, no! I will
not believe that I am