From time to time a mocking
smile trembled on her lips, then heavy sighs wrung her breast. Was
she perhaps telling the fire of the flames which raged within her
bosom? Was she perhaps a magician, who understood the language of
these mysterious tongues of flame, and answered their burning
questions? The hasty opening of the door aroused her from her
dreams, and a page entered and announced in a loud voice--"His
majesty the king!"
Amelia bowed her head, and advanced slowly and with a stern
countenance to meet the king, who now appeared at the threshold.
"May I enter, my sister, or do you command me to withdraw?" said
Frederick, smiling.
"The king has no permission to ask," said Amelia, earnestly; "he is
everywhere lord and master. The doors of all other prisons open
before him, and so also do mine."
Frederick nodded to the page to leave the room and close the door,
then advanced eagerly to meet his sister. Giving her his hands he
led her to the divan, and seated himself beside her.
"You regard me then as a kind of jailer?" he said, in a gentle,
loving voice.
"Can a king be any thing but a jailer?" she said, roughly. "Those
who displease him, he arrests and casts into prison, and not one of
his subjects can be sure that he will not one day displease him.
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