"
Frederick was silent, he bowed his head upon the vase, as if to cool
his burning brow upon its cold, glassy surface. He, perhaps, wished
also to conceal from his friend the tears which rolled slowly down
his cheeks, and fell upon the packet of letters lying before him.
The king kissed the packet reverentially, and examined with a deep
sigh the trembling characters traced by the hand of his beloved
mother.
"For my son--the king."
Frederick read the address softly. "Alas! my dear mother, how poor
you have made me. I am now no longer a son--only a king!"
He bowed his head over the packet, and pressed his mother's writing
to his lips, then laid the letters at the foot of the vase and
remained standing thoughtfully before it.
A long pause ensued. Frederick stood with folded arms before the
vase, and the marquis leaned against the door behind him. Suddenly
the king turned to him.
"I beg a favor of you, marquis. Hasten to Berlin, and tell Benda he
must perform the Te Deum of my dear Graun here in the castle chapel
to-morrow morning at nine o'clock. I know the singers of the chapel
can execute it--they gave it once after the battle of Leignitz.
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