When the message was taken to John George he was first of all surprised and then exultant. She was dying and she wanted to see him before she passed away for ever. Well, he did not object to seeing her once more since it would be the last time.

When he looked at the pallid creature in the bed his hopes

were high. She was a very sick woman. He was surprised how she clung to life, but he would soon be a widower ... though not for long. Magdalen and her mother would see to that.

"You are ill," he said, standing at the end of the bed and looking at her with distaste.

"I am much enfeebled. I had a bad attack during the night."

He bowed his head lest she see the speculation in his eyes.

*'I know," she went on determinedly, "that the best news you could hear of me would be that I were dead. It seems possible that that pleasure will not long be denied you. I would, however, ask your indulgence."

He looked steadily at her. "Well?"

"I would prefer to die in some place other than this palace. I should like your permission to leave."

She saw the curl of his lips and she knew he was thinking: Escape me and my murderers! Go right away ... perhaps to Berlin ... to her dear friends who would nurse her back to health, and she remain an encumbrance, though a distant one, to prevent his giving Magdalen what she so passionately desired! What a fool the woman was if she thought he would agree to that!

He was about to tell her she would remain where she was when she said: "I would not wish to go farther than the Dower House at Pretsch. I know I have not long to live ... something tells me it is only a matter of a few weeks. I could die peacefully there." Her eyes were wild and glassy. "It is, one might say, a dying request."

He shivered a little. He believed she was telling him that if he did not grant it she would haunt him after death. He was no more superstitious than most, yet the accusing eyes of a victim whom one was sending to an early grave could be alarming. Pretsch, he thought. With trusted servants to see that she had no opportunity to escape to Berlin. To see that his orders were more effectively carried out than they had been here, for if what he had commanded had been done she would not have been fixing those wild eyes on him and making this request.

It was not a bad idea. Magdalen would be happier when his wife was no longer at the Palace. Then she could act as Elec-

tress as much as she wished and would be more readily accepted when the real Electress was out of the way.

To Pretsch to die. It was not a bad idea.

He gave his permission and the next day, to Caroline's relief, she left with her mother and a few attendants for the Dower House.

Death, like a mischievous trickster, was threatening where it was least expected.

News of the death of Eleanor would have caused no surprise but, although enfeebled and ill, she continued to exist at Pretsch and it was in the palace at Dresden that tragedy struck.

Magdalen von Roohlitz kept to her apartments, seeing no one and the rumour was flying round the court and the whole of Dresden that she was suffering from the smallpox.

This was God's answer to her wickedness, said the whispers. She had planned to take the life of another and now her own was in jeopardy; she had planned to put on the robes of an Electress—instead it could well be a shroud.

And even if she survived would the Elector be so passionately devoted to her when she emerged from the sick room pitted with pox?

Madam von Roohlitz was in despair. All her ambitions lay in her daughter; she had schemed; she had dreamed; she had seen her dearest hopes about to be realized for surely even if John George's plan to bring in polygamy failed, the attempts to poison Eleanor must sooner or later succeed; and now here was everything about to be ruined.

Caroline listening to the rumours, which had reached the Pretsch Dower House, wondered whether her prayers had been answered. She had prayed that something would happen to save them. Could this really be an answer to prayer?

Life was unaccountable. A few days before her mother had seemed doomed and Magdalen von Roohlitz triumphant; now by one little stroke of fate the position had been reversed.

It seemed as though everyone was caught up in this almost unbearable suspense.

In the Dower House Eleanor no longer thought of imminent

death. In her apartments Madam von Roohlitz rallied against her ill fortune; in her bedroom Magdalen lay restless and delirious, blessedly unconscious of her plight.

John George summoned the doctors, and demanded that they tell him it was not the dreaded scourge which had attacked his mistress. They were sorry they could not obey him because there was no doubt that the Countess was suffering from smallpox. He stormed at them; he gave way to fury; then he wept. His beautiful Magdalen ravaged by the scourge which destroyed life or on those occasions when life was spared almost always destroyed beauty. This could not happen to him and his Magdalen when they had such wonderful plans for the future.

But it had happened.

"She must not die. Anything rather than that. I must see her. I must talk to her."

"Your Highness," said the doctors, "you must not go into her apartments. That would be very dangerous. You know the nature of this terrible disease."

But he would not listen to them. He went to her apartments; he took her into his arms.

"Listen to me, Magdalen," he cried. "You must get well. It will not matter if the pox disfigures you. I will not care. I want you to live. Do you understand that?"

But she only looked at him with glazed eyes; and throughout the palace they heard him shouting in his grief.

Magdalen von Roohlitz was dead.

When the news was brought to the Dower House it was like a reprieve. Those servants who had received their orders from the Elector were stunned and did not know how^ to act.

Eleanor's health immediately began to improve. Caroline, alert, fully aware of the situation, waited for what would happen next.

She heard that the Court of Dresden was in mourning, that the Elector was so stricken with grief for the loss of his mistress that he kept in his apartments and would see no one.

But there was more startling news to come.

John George had caught the smallpox from his mistress and was suffering from a major attack.

A few days later he was dead.

The shadow of murder was lifted from the Dower House and Eleanor was once more a widow.

There was a new Elector at Dresden. Augustus Frederick had taken his brother's place and was determined to make the Court even more notorious than before. He had no time to consider his brother's widow and as long as she and her family did not make nuisances of themselves he had no objection to their continuing to take possession of the Dower House. Though just outside Dresden, this was far enough away not to bother him, so the Dowager Electress could stay there as long as she wished.

Eleanor rose from her sick bed but the treatment she had received from her late husband had left its mark and she remained an invalid.

But it was a great joy to her and her daughter not to live in perpetual fear; and as the days passed, the nightmare receded. Life at the Dower House was uneventful and peace was something which was only fully appreciated when it had been missed.

One day Eleanor said: "Your brother should join us. It is not good for families to be separated."

So William Frederick arrived at Pretsch—a charming little boy of nine. He was affectionate and happy to be reunited with his mother and sister.