No language could
express the delight of D'Argent--no words could paint the emotion
which moved his soul and filled his eyes with tears.
The king recognized him, and holding out his hand invited him to
take a seat in the carriage. Then giving one more greeting to his
people, he said, "Onward--onward to Charlottenburg."
At a quick pace the carriage drove through Berlin. Those who had not
had the courage and strength to await the king at the Frankfort
gate, were now crowding the streets to welcome him.
Frederick did not raise himself again from the dark corner of the
carriage. He left it to the Duke of Brunswick to return the
salutations of the people. He remained motionless, and did not even
appear to hear the shouts of his subjects. Not once did he raise his
hand to greet them--not a word passed his lips.
When they crossed the king's bridge and reached the castle grounds,
the people were assembled and closely crowded together. Frederick
now raised himself, but he did not see them--he did not regard the
brilliantly illuminated houses, or the grounds sparkling in a flood
of light. He turned slowly and sadly toward the castle--his eye
rested upon that dark, gloomy mass of stone, which arose to the
right, and contrasted mysteriously with the brilliant houses around
it.
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