But since Louisa had left him, to bid this "good-night"
had become, as it were, a sacred pilgrimage to his most precious
recollections. When he passed through the silent corridors at night,
and entered the rooms of his sons and daughters, he thought of her
who had left him three years before, but whom he believed he saw,
with her sweet smile and loving eyes. He took pains to remind such
of his children as he found awake of their dear departed parent,
whispering to them, "Remember your noble mother, whose eyes behold
you." And on the lips of those asleep he never failed to press two
kisses--one for himself and the other for Louisa.
The king had just returned to his cabinet, and, like a dying glimmer
of twilight, a faint smile was illuminating his countenance, which,
since the queen's death, had grown grave and sad. He seated himself
on the sofa where she had so often sat by his side, and cast a
mournful glance upon the vacant place beside him. "Alone! Always
alone!" he said in a low voice. "Nothing around me but intrigues,
quarrels, and malice! No one who loves me! Alone!" With a quick
motion he turned his head toward the side of the wall where hung
over his desk the portrait of Queen Louisa, in her white dress, and
a rose on her bosom. "Where are you, then, Louisa!" he exclaimed;
"why did you leave me, though you had sworn to bear joy and grief
with me? You are not here to share them, and--" Suddenly the king
paused and turned his eyes toward the door.
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240