Berlin shouted, huzzaed, sang, danced, declaimed, illuminated for three entire days in honor of the conquered peace, and the return of her great king.  Every one but the young Princess Amelia seemed contented, happy, joyous.  She took no part in the glad triumph of her family, and the loud hosarmas of the people found no echo in her breast.  With heavy heart and misty eyes she walked slowly backward and forward in her boudoir.  For three days she had borne this terrible torture, this anguish of uncertainty.  Her soul was moved with fearful anticipations, but she was forced to appear gay.

For three days, with trembling heart and lips, she had been compelled to appear at the theatre, the masquerades, the balls, and ceremonious dinners of the court.  She felt that the stern eye of the king was ever searchingly and angrily fixed upon her.  Several times, completely overcome and exhausted by her efforts to seem gay and careless, she sought to withdraw unobserved to her room, but her ever-watchful brother intercepted her, and led her back to her place by her royal mother.  He chatted and jested merrily, but his expression was dark and threatening.  Once she had not the power to respond with smiles.  She fixed her pleading, tearful eyes upon the king.  He bowed down to her, and said harshly:  “I command you to appear gay.  A princess has not the right to weep when her people are happy.”

To-day the court festivities closed.  At last Amelia dared hope for some hours of solitude and undisturbed thought.  To-day she could weep and allow her pale lips to express the wild grief of her heart.  In her loneliness she dared give utterance to the cry of anguish rending her bosom.

Where was he? where was Trenck?  Why had he not returned?  Why had she no news, no love-token, no message from him?  She had carefully examined the list of killed and wounded.  He had not fallen in battle.  He was not fatally wounded.  He had not returned with the army, or she would have seen him.  Where was he, then?  Was he ill, or had he forgotten her, or did he blush to return without his laurels?  Had he been taken by the Austrians?  Was her beloved suffering in a loathsome prison, while she was laughing, jesting, and adorning herself in costly array?  While she thus thought and spoke, burning tears blinded her eyes, and sighs and sobs choked her utterance.

“If he is dead,” said she, firmly, “then I will also die.  If he is in prison, I will set him at liberty.  If he does not come because he has not been promoted and fears I no longer love him, I will seek him out, I will swear that I love him, that I desire only his love, that I will fly with him to some lonely, quiet valley.  I will lay aside my rank, my royalty, forget my birth, abandon all joyously, that I may belong to him, be his fond and dear-loved wife.”

And now a light sound was heard at the door, and she recognized the voice of her maid asking admittance.