He had suffered so much, and alone! And as he had been alone
in his affliction, he was now alone in his prosperity. No one was
with him at this holy hour to understand his heart, except her whose
spirit he believed to be always near him. Grief for the humiliation
of her country occasioned her death; joy and pride in the victory of
her country would, if possible, have reawakened her from the dead.
The king slowly walked toward the mausoleum. The door was open, and
he entered softly. He looked around to assure himself that he was
alone, and that no strange eyes desecrated this devout pilgrimage.
He took off his cloak, and that which he had borne under it was no
longer hidden. It was the laurel-wreath presented on the preceding
day at Leipsic. With this crown of victory in his hand he approached
the black sarcophagus in which reposed all that was mortal of
Louisa! Bending over it, he kissed the place beneath which her head
rested, and laid down the wreath. [Footnote: Eylert, "Characterzuge
aus dem Leben Friedrich Wilhelm III." vol. ii., p. 162.]
"Take it, Louisa," he murmured. "It belongs to you! Your spirit was
with us, and led us to victory. Oh, why did you leave me? Why are
you not with me in the days of prosperity as in the days of
adversity? I have seen your beautiful eyes shed many tears, but now
I cannot see them brighten with joy.
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