"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 year, every day, is like an unsullied page, upon which but one name stands inscribed--Frederick William--not Prince Frederick William.

What does it benefit me that you are a prince?
If you were not a prince, I should not be despised, my children would not be nameless, without fortune, and without justice.
No, were you not a prince, I should not have felt ashamed and grief-stricken, with downcast eyes, before the lady who drove past in her splendid carriage, while I was humbly seated in a miserable wagon.
No, were not my beloved a prince, he could have made me his wife, could have given me his name, and I should to-day be at his side with my children.