THE HERR LIEUTENANT
When Franz again opened his eyes it was to see a little figure sitting
near by with her knitting.
"Am I crazy?" He gazed about the room in which he found himself lying.
He saw a huge porcelain stove of green and white and blue and yellow,
with a pelican on top for an ornament. A chest of drawers boasted a vase
of roses, and there were pretty white curtains to the window.
"Bettina," he said, "Bettina!"
She ran to him, her blue eyes eager.
"Ach ja," said Franz, "but it is the same Bettina."
Yes, it was the old Bettina with the bright, eager eyes, the golden
hair, but it was Bettina grown older.
"God be praised," she said, her eyes dancing; "I will call your Frau
Mother."
He was home, but how had he come there?
There was Madame von Stork, the tears flowing; there was his father;
Pauline, too; how handsome she was! And Marianne; but how serious she
had grown! And the twins.
"Come here, Ilse. The other hand, Elchen! And Carlchen, how big you
are!"
The children, hanging their heads, were pushed to the bed by Marianne.
Franz's eyes sought other figures.
"Wolfgang?" he said. "And Otto; where is Otto?"
It was days before he heard all the news, and it was days before he
learned all that had happened.
Wolfgang was dead.
The Herr Lieutenant turned his face away.
Otto had run off, and no one knew where he was.
The rascal! That was exactly like Otto.
As for the Herr Lieutenant himself, the peasant boy had come for the
Professor. The French soldiers had fired the house and the peasants had
fled at once to Memel.
It was all very simple. Peace was made now, and his father had brought
him in a carriage. He for days had remained unconscious. They were all
soon to move to Koenigsberg, and Franz was to go also, and Otto must come
home now, for the war was over.
Then Marianne, who came in often and sat with her tent stitch, told him
how the poor Queen had been deceived by Napoleon, how she had believed
in his promise and had not been well from the shock of disappointment
since she had returned from Tilsit.
And when Marianne was gone, in came his mother and she wept over
Wolfgang and Otto and told him how Ludwig Brandt, who was soon to be
betrothed to Pauline, was always at Koenigsberg, for there were great
plans among the students in which Ludwig was helping, plans for rousing
the nation against Napoleon.
Then she told of Marianne, and of how she was now a great comfort.
"And it is all because of our good Queen," she assured him, and related
how Marianne now adored her instead of Goethe, and of how she had gone
all winter to make lint and to read aloud to her Majesty.
"And she has now a longing to be useful," said Madame von Stork, her
face brightening. "At first it was to be useful in some high-flown way,"
she added.
At that Franz laughed merrily.
"That is like Marianne," he said, "exactly, dear mother."
"She wanted to nurse the soldiers," continued Madame von Stork, "but our
good Queen assured her that she was far too young and that home is the
true place for a German maiden. She told her how she herself had never
interfered in politics, but had been content to be a good wife and
mother.
"And so," concluded Madame von Stork, "each day she becomes more of a
comfort. God be praised," she added, "that we came to Memel. Our Queen
is an example to all German women."
"She is an angel," said Franz, who like all the soldiers adored Queen
Louisa.
The very first day Franz asked about Hans.
"We had thought him dead," explained his father. "The King had news of
his disappearance and believed him to have been shot as a spy. But when
you were brought home the peasant told me the soldiers had marched him
away with them and I could do nothing."
"He will probably soon arrive in Memel," said Franz, "now peace is
made."
"The soldiers about Tilsit knew nothing of him. Why they took him
prisoner I have no idea, but can only wonder," added his father.
But the days passed, and no Hans came, and the weeks went by and turned
into months.
Bettina, though, was sure that he would come to her.
"He promised," she said, "that when peace was made we should go back to
our dear Thuringia."
She had wept bitterly when Elsa had come out with the news of his death,
but only for a moment.
"That is my grandfather's writing," she had said, "and so he must be
living."
And now she still believed in his coming.
Nothing, however, could make Marianne happy, for the Queen's health
seemed to fail entirely.
As the summer advanced to autumn, and autumn marched into winter the
winds of Memel grew fiercer and fiercer. With their coming the Queen
lost her colour, her cheerfulness was forced, and she drooped like a
flower.
One thing alone comforted both her and the King, a letter from the
people of Westphalia, who must now belong to Napoleon.
Frederick William had bade them farewell, telling them that he felt like
a father separating from his children, that it was only necessity which
made him yield them to their new ruler.
The Westphalians answered him like children.
"When we read thy farewell," they wrote, "our hearts were breaking; we
could not believe that we should cease to be thy faithful subjects, we
who have always loved thee so much. As true as we live, it is not thy
fault that after the battle of Jena thy scattered armies were not led to
our country to join with our militia in a fresh combat. We would have
staked our lives and have saved the country, for our warriors have
marrow in their bones and their souls are not yet infested with the
canker.
"Our wives nourish their children with their own milk, our daughters are
no puppets of fashion, we desire to keep free from the pestilential
spirit of the age. Yet we cannot change the decrees of Providence.
Farewell, then, thou good old King. God grant that the remainder of thy
country may furnish thee with wise ministers and truer generals than
those which have brought affliction on thee. It is not for us to
struggle against our fate, we must with manly fortitude submit to what
we cannot alter. May God be with us and give us a new ruler who will
likewise be the father of the country, may he respect our language, our
manners, our religion, and our municipalities as thou hast done, our
dear, good King. God grant thee peace, health, and happiness."
Such a letter was a great comfort to the Queen, and though her heart was
very heavy, she occupied herself first in the sale of her jewels, then
she and the King sent all their golden dishes to the mint to be turned
into money. She bought only simple dresses and tried to set all the
people of the Court an example of patience and cheerfulness. She talked
much with good Bishop Eylert and Bishop Borowsky.
One Sunday the Bishop found her alone in her sitting-room reading her
Bible.
When he entered she greeted him with a smile and they sat and talked
over the 120th Psalm.
In a firm, clear voice the Queen repeated aloud all its verses.
"In thy light," she said, "shall we see light." And then she told the
Bishop how, though her foe had conquered her and taken away her kingdom,
she firmly believed that God would send His light and show to all the
reasons of the wars of Napoleon.
"I think," she said, "it is wise to study a portion of Scripture each
day, really study it." The King, coming in, agreed.
Then the Bishop suggested that each should choose a book.
"I," said the Queen, "choose Psalms."
"And I," said the King, "select the book of Daniel, because it teaches
that kingdoms do not rise and fall by chance. God's ways may often seem
to us dark and mysterious, but we may feel assured that they are always
holy, wise, and salutary. By His wisdom and mercy this world is so
ordered that evil works out its own destruction, and good,--that is, all
that agrees with the will of God,--must avail at last."
When Marianne heard of this study of the Queen, she, too, selected a
book, and decided upon Psalms because the Queen had selected it for her
study.
Now and then, however, pleasant things happened.
The house where the King and Queen lived was so small that there was no
room for the children. Therefore Prince Frederick and Prince William
lived in the house of a wealthy merchant named Argelander.
"To-day," said the Queen one morning, "is Frau Argelander's birthday. We
hear that for fear of disturbing the Princes she has gone to the country
to have her feast with her friends. Come, then, let us decorate her
house and send a message for her to come and enjoy it."
Everyone was delighted to see the Queen again lively. Marianne ran to
the Stork's Nest and sent all the children for evergreens, the ladies
hurried to the shops and purchased little gifts, and the great work
began.
A servant flew about Memel with invitations, and by late afternoon all
was ready and a messenger departed to fetch Frau Argelander.
"My goodness, oh, Heaven!" cried the ladies when he returned with the
message that Frau Argelander begged to be excused, as she was enjoying
her feast with her friends, and did not need in the least her house,
which the Princes were free to use as they would.
Nobody knew what to do, but the Queen arranged a plan.
"You go, Fritz," she said to the Crown Prince, "take the carriage and
fetch Frau Argelander."
And this time the lady appeared with many apologies to find lights
streaming from her windows, decorations everywhere, garlands wreathing
the doors, and presents spread on a table. Beneath the chandelier in the
Saal stood the Queen, lovely in white, a Prince on each side, Charlotte
and Carl and Alexandrina grouped about all holding bouquets in their
hands to present to the lady who had been so kind to them in their
trouble.
"Dear Frau Argelander, dear Birthday Child!" cried the Queen, and
slipped on the lady's plump arm a bracelet containing the hair of the
two Princes.
Then did the Queen begin the festivities, part of the fun being the
reading of a poem on each present, written at the command of the Queen
by a Memel poet.
Marianne was standing near the table on which were the presents when
Franz, who was well, now turned towards her smiling.
"Mariechen," he said in German, for after a talk or two with Ludwig
Brandt he no longer spoke the fashionable French, but always his own
language, "do you remember what Schlegel wrote about our Queen?"
Marianne shook her head.
"I have never heard it."
Franz, in low tones, repeated the words:
"She would be a Queen if she lived in a cottage,
The Queen of every heart."
Marianne's eyes danced.
"Oh, Franz," she cried, "oh, brother, how, how lovely!"
"And it is true," said Franz, gazing about the room, his eye resting on
the handsome old Countess, looking bored because of her love of her own
Saal in the evening, yet brightening if the Queen so much as looked at
her, at the Princes and Princesses hanging on their mother's words, at
the young poet, happy ever in the honour done his verses, at Frau
Argelander, at the people of Memel.
"Ja, ja," he said, "the Angel of Prussia, the Queen of Every Heart!"
But there was one person who was determined not to let the Queen of
Prussia be happy.
"Pay your war debt. Pay me what you owe," Napoleon kept crying.
The King of Prussia, who had no money, begged for time, and he would pay
everything.
"Pay me, and at once," insisted Napoleon.
What was the King to do? He had no money.
Then his brother, Prince William, had an idea.
"There is no gold," he said, "how can we pay? I will go to Paris and
entreat Napoleon to have mercy."
He said this in public, but his real plan, told only to his wife, was to
offer himself as a hostage until Prussia could pay her debt.
"I will join you," said the Princess Marianne. "Our little Amelia died
in our flight from Dantzic and I can be as happy with you in a prison as
in a palace."
So the Prince departed, and the King and Queen waited.
The great scientist, Alexander von Humboldt, prepared Napoleon for his
coming and he was received with both politeness and kindness.
At once, with glowing face, he offered himself as a hostage for his
country.
Napoleon embraced him.
"That is very noble," he said, "but impossible." For he wanted money,
not Princes.
When the news of this act spread through Germany it fired the people
like a draught of strong wine.
"We will rise!" they cried. "Our Prince has set us an example! We will
throw off the yoke of the oppressor!"
And so, in the darkest hour of the Fatherland, patriotism began to blaze
brightly.
The French having evacuated Koenigsberg, the Queen longed to leave Memel,
whose winds had never agreed with her.
"Do, Majesty," urged Baron Stein, advising the King, "it is more
dignified that you hold Court in a large city like Koenigsberg."
While all this was being discussed, to the surprise of the von Storks,
the Queen sent one day for Bettina.
"What can she want?" and Madame von Stork made Bettina ready, brushing
her hair, putting on a blue dress Pauline had made her, and seeing that
the elastics of her slippers were in exact order.
Bettina went alone, the Queen requiring it, and with eyes eager, her
bright smile on her lips, the little girl appeared before her.
"Dear child," said the Queen, "I have sent for you because I have some
news to tell you."
[Illustration: "_I have some news to tell you_"]
Then she explained that she feared Bettina's grandfather might not
return to Memel, that Professor von Stork had many to care for, and that
she, the Queen, meant in the future to provide for Bettina.
"My dear people of Berlin," she told her, "have founded a home for
orphans in my honour. The Luisenstift, they will call it. Now, dear
Bettina, I am to name and support four of these children and I have
selected you as one of them."
Poor Bettina! Her little heart sank. Must she leave the Stork's Nest,
must she go among strangers?
The Queen understood.
"You cannot, dear child," she said like a mother, "always live with the
good Professor. Go happily, dear child, to this Home. It will help the
good Professor to have you cared for. You may visit them in your
holidays, and, if you are a good girl and study well, one day you may
come and live at Court and be a maid to Princess Charlotte, or my little
Alexandrina. Would you not like that?" And the Queen smiled
enchantingly.
Bettina's eyes glowed.
To be always near her Majesty! What happiness!
"But go now," said the Queen, "and tell the Herr Professor that I will
talk this over with him before he moves his family to Koenigsberg, and
after Christmas I shall send you to Berlin, to the Luisenstift. Until
then, be happy!"
"My grandfather will come," thought Bettina; "the Queen is good, but we
will go to Thuringia and I shall see Hans and the baby, my godmother and
Willy."
And she believed this so firmly that she hardly worried over the Orphan
Asylum.
But the Professor was relieved. Money was scarce. He had many children,
and he thanked the Queen over and over for her goodness.