"Yes, Your Highness."

"You will take von Eltz with you. You will be his friend, von Eltz, calling yourself Steding. But on no account let it be known who you are. If you do, you can depend upon it the King of Prussia will hear, and he'll take the Princess back to Berlin and force her to marry the Archduke Charles. No one must know. Do you hear me? Particularly women. Now go and prepare. Leave tomorrow. If you decide you want to marry her, remember delay could lose her. So could gossip. Remember that."

He dismissed them and they went off to make ready for the journey.

George Augustus was excited but he was not even tempted to tell his sister where he was going.

Those months at Ansbach were the saddest Caroline had ever known. Each morning on waking her first thoughts were: She is dead. I shall never see her again.

She had wept until she was exhausted with weeping; she had shut herself into the bedroom which had been hers as a child and had seen no one for days. Then she had told herself that Sophia Charlotte would have chided her, would have reminded her that she must not give way to grief; that she must be brave as she had always been taught to be.

But there is no longer anything to live for, Caroline thought. How could I have believed for one moment that I could have left her and gone to Spain? This is a judgement on me because I was tempted by the glitter of a crown.

If she would only come back, I would tell her that I would never never leave her.

Her servants tried to rouse her from her melancholy. Would she not like to see the gown her seamstress was making for her? The woman wanted to know whether she would like embroidered panels or should they be of plain velvet. She had no interest in clothes. Would she care to do a little needlework? Embroidery was such a restful occupation. She had never cared for needlework. Sometimes they told her amusing stories about people of her brother's court—and of other courts, but scandal did not interest her.

She and Sophia Charlotte had talked of religion, philosophy, history, art, literature. With whom could she talk of such things now?

There is nothing ... nothing left to me, she thought.

Her brother was unusually understanding. She was grateful to him; it was fortunate that having now become Margrave he could offer her this refuge of her old home. He would talk to her of the days of their childhood before she had known Sophia Charlotte, and somehow this was soothing. Certainly here in the old Palace of the Margraves, so ornate and flamboyant as she now knew, having been educated in good taste by Sophia Charlotte, she could be less miserable than anywhere else. She liked to walk round the gallery and look sadly at the portraits of the Hohenzollerns, her ancestors, and wonder about their lives. Had they ever known grief like hers? How could any have felt such a loss? There could only have been one in the world like Sophia Charlotte.

William Frederick, her brother, seeking to bring her out of her melancholy told her that she must make a definite decision about her marriage. He was sure that once she had settled that matter she would begin to build a new life.

"I shall not marry the Archduke," she said. "I do not believe she wished it."

Frederick William, being piqued because he had not been consulted in the matter—after all he was the head of the family, even though younger than Caroline—was secretly pleased. The Austrians should have consulted him. He was young and had not long before succeeded to the title; he had been made to feel, for so many years, that he was of little importance, so now he felt he must continually remind people how his position had changed.

"I think it is the right decision," he said.

"You seem very certain."

"I am sure you would never have been a Catholic."

"No. I never should. I could never be so definite in my beliefs. She was not. She always said on religious matters we must always have an open mind."

"Then you would have been unhappy in Spain."

"I will write at once to Leibniz. He will tell me how to handle this matter. He will draft the letter I must write. I know he too will be with me in this."

She went at once to her apartment. Her brother was right. Now that she had made her decision her spirits had lifted a little.

Leibniz was at Hanover in attendance on the Electress Sophia.

He read to her Caroline's letter asking him to draft the refusal.

The Electress was delighted. If only, she thought that stubborn fool of an Elector would listen to me. If only he would ask for Caroline for George Augustus. Sometimes I think he refuses to do what I ask simply because I ask it!

And what could an old woman do? It had been the same in the old days with Ernest Augustus. He had allowed Clara von Platen to influence him, but not his wife. She remembered how her husband and his mistress had decided to marry George Lewis to Sophia Dorothea and had not told her anything about the plan until they needed her help to put it into action.

And she, the granddaughter of a King, and King of England at that, had allowed this to be. Well, at least she had kept her place in the Electorate; she was honoured; and although Ernest Augustus would not be influenced by her, he allowed her supremacy in her own little Court. She had remained to bear his children—not like poor Sophia Dorothea, languishing in prison now. Had she protested as that foolish woman had, would her fate have been similar? These Germans had no idea how to treat women. How different her cousin Charles of England had been. How different was Louis XIV, the Sun King, the most admired monarch in Europe. These men were gentlemen and that fact helped them to be great rulers.

As for her son George Lewis, he was the crudest of them all. And foolish too. He was going to lose the opportunity of bringing the most accomplished of Princesses to Hanover.

Leibniz read Caroline's letter aloud.

"Heaven, jealous of our happiness, has taken away from us our adored and adorable Queen. The calamity has overwhelmed me with grief and sickness, and it is only the hope that I may soon follow her that consoles me. I pity you from the bottom of my heart for her loss to you is irreparable. I pray the good God to add to the Electress Sophia's life the years that the Queen might hav« lived and I beseech you to add my devotion to her."

Sophia wept quietly as she listened.

She and I alone could console each other, she thought.

Yet it was no use talking to George Lewis. What did he know of grief? What did he know of love?

The clocks were striking midnight when George Augustus with the Baron von Eltz and one valet rode through the narrow streets of Hanover, past the gabled houses with their sloping roofs, past the Markt Kirche, the Rathhaus, out of the town and away towards Ansbach.

This was the most exciting adventure he had ever undertaken; the miracle was that it should be happening at his father's suggestion.

Caroline! He was half-way to falling in love with her already. He hoped she was not too clever. He didn't like clever women. He had never enjoyed studying and had avoided it when possible; a wife who knew more than he did would be intolerable. But they said she was beautiful; and if she should choose him after refusing the Archduke Charles he would be delighted with her.

The Baron was giving him some uneasy glances. He was afraid he would give himself away, afraid he would show that arrogance which was always ready to appear at an imagined slight. If he betrayed the fact that Monsieur de Busch, the name under which it had been decided he should travel, was in fact George Augustus, Electoral Prince of Hanover, the news that he was wooing Caroline of Ansbach would be all over Europe in a very short time.

"You needn't look at me like that, von Eltz," said George Augustus. "I'll play my part."

The days were long. Caroline could settle to nothing. She could not go on in this way. She had no desire to return to Lutzenburg which the King of Prussia had now renamed Charlottenburg after his wife. She had never had any love for the King of Prussia. She would stay here with her brother until her grief grew less acute—if it ever did.

She spent long hours in the Hofgarten remembering the past because the future was too painful to contemplate.

Sometimes she rode through the streets of the town, through the narrow streets, past the little houses from the windows of which people leaned out to see her go by. They called affectionate greetings. They loved her the more because she had refused marriage with the Archduke Charles. She had given up a possible empire and a crown for the sake of her faith. That was how they saw it and it seemed an admirable thing to have done.

"Long live our Princess," they called. "Good fortune to Your Serene Highness."

She smiled her sad smile and they understood her sadness and loved her for that too.

William Frederick said to her one day: "You'll be ill if you go on grieving in this way. I suggest we leave this place and take a short holiday at Triesdorf. It will be beautiful there at this time of year."

Listlessly Caroline agreed to accompany him to their summer home and they had been there only a few weeks when the Margrave came to his sister's room to tell her about the new arrivals.

"Two gentlemen have come from Hanover. They bring letters from the Count von Platen, the Hanoverian Prime Minister, asking us to be kind to these two travellers."

Caroline said, "Must I see them?"

"It would seem discourteous not to as there are these letters from Platen."

"That's true, and I might hear news of the Electress. I wonder she did not give them a message to bring to me."

"Perhaps she did not know they were coming. She wouldn't since they are merely noblemen travelling for their own pleasure."

"I will come down this evening," said Caroline.

So she met George Augustus, not knowing that he was other than Monsieur de Busch.

He bowed, and murmured that he was overwhelmed by the honour and that it was a great moment for them.

She replied that he was welcome. She was delighted to see anyone from Hanover and she hoped he might give her news of the Electress Sophia.

He believed he could do that.

The travellers were entertained in a homely and intimate manner for the Margrave did not live in the same state in his summer residence as he did at the Palace of Ansbach.

Young Monsieur de Busch talked animatedly of Hanover; his friend, the more sober Monsieur Steding devoted himself to the Margrave leaving his young friend to talk to Caroline.

Since she was forced to pay attention to him Caroline looked more like he»- old self than she had since Sophia Charlotte's death. Her brother noticed this and thought: We must entertain more. She must not be allowed to shut herself away.

Meanwhile Monsieur de Busch was growing very excited, although he hid this. She was charming, this young woman. She was the type that most appealed to him. Masses of fair hair, blue eyes, a little quiet, always giving him the opportunity of speaking. She seemed modest and a little sad; but he knew why that was. She was a beauty; and she would be amenable; and she had refused the Archduke Charles. He had made up his mind in the first half hour.

Caroline saw an animated young man—short but good-looking, with a lively expression and neat features. He was about her own age, she judged, and there was an unusual dignity about him. She liked him.

After the meal the Margrave suggested a game of cards. Monsieur de Busch asked if he might have the honour of sitting next to the Princess and this was granted.

So they played cards in a desultory manner for that was how the visitors wished it.

Caroline asked how the Electress Sophia was progressing after her illness.

"I hear she is recovering slowly," she was told. "She is a wonderful lady."

Monsieur de Busch agreed that this was so. "Your Serene Highness should visit her. I believe nothing could speed her recovery more than that."

"I should have to wait for an invitation from the Elector. I might not be very welcome.'*

"I cannot imagine Your Serene Highness being unwelcome anywhere."

"You are very kind."

His almond-shaped eyes were warm—perhaps a little too warm, but strangely enough she did not mind that. By forcing her to entertain him he was making her feel more alive than she had since the tragedy.