thousand times woe to those who
would hold it fast! Only be patient, Wilhelmine, submit, and bear with
me the hard and distressing present. Tell me, my child, my loved one,
why did you leave Potsdam so suddenly?"

"I was afraid, Frederick. A kind of madness seized me at the thought
of the king's bailiffs carrying me off to Spandau; a nameless anxiety
confused my mind, and I only realized that I must escape--that I must
conceal myself. I felt in greater security here than at Potsdam for the
night."

"And you fled without leaving me any sign or message to tell me
whither you had gone! Oh, Wilhelmine, what if I had not divined your
hiding-place, and had awaited at Potsdam in painful anxiety?"

"Then I should have fled from here at daybreak, leaving my children,
and in some quiet, obscure retreat have concealed myself from every
eye--even your own."

"Would you have hidden yourself from me?" cried the prince, encircling
her in his arms, and pressing her to his heart.

"Yes, Frederick, when your heart did not prompt you where to find me,
then it would have been a proof that you were indifferent to me. When
I cannot lean upon your love, then there is no longer any protection or
abiding-place for me in the world, and the grave will be my refuge."

"But you see my heart revealed you to me, and I am here," said the
prince, smiling.

"Yes, Heaven be praised, you have come to me," she cried, exultingly,
throwing her arms about his neck, and kissing him passionately. "You are
here; I no longer dread the old king's anger, and his fearful words fall
as spent arrows at my feet. You are here, king of my heart; now I have
only one thing to dread."

"What is that, Wilhelmine?"

She bent close to his ear, and whispered: "I fear that you are untrue
to me; that there is some ground for truth in those anonymous letters,
which declare that you would discard me and my children also, for you
love another--not one other, but many."

"Jealousy, again jealous!" the prince sighed.

"Oh, no," said she, tenderly, "I only repeat what is daily written me."

"Why do you read it?" cried the prince, vehemently. "Why do you quaff
the poison which wicked, base men offer you? Why do you not throw such
letters into the fire, as I do when they slander you to me?"

"Because you know, Frederick," she answered, proudly and earnestly--"you
must know that that which they write against me is slander and
falsehood. My life lies open before you; every