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that it was necessary for Ulrik Frederik to go abroad and
win honor and glory, in order that the King might do
something handsome for him; for although his Majesty had
been made an absolute monarch, he was sensitive to what
people said, and the noblemen had grown so captious and
perverse that they would be sure to put the very worst
construction on anything the King might do. Yet women
have an inborn dread of all farewells, and in this case there
was much to fear. Even if she could forget the chances of
war and the long, dangerous journey, and tell herself that
a king’s son would be well taken care of, yet she could
not help her foreboding that their life together might suffer
such a break by a separation of perhaps more than a year
that it would never be the same again. Their love was yet
so lightly rooted, and just as it had begun to grow, it was to
be mercilessly exposed to ill winds and danger. Was it not
almost like going out deliberately to lay it waste? And one
thing she had learned in her brief married life: the kind of
marriage she had thought so easy in the days of her
betrothal, that in which man and wife go each their own way,
could mean only misery with all darkness and no dawn.
The wedge had entered their outward life; God forbid that
it should pierce to their hearts! Yet it was surely
tempting fate to open the door by such a parting.
Moreover, she was sadly jealous of all the light
papistical feminine rabble in the land and dominions of Spain.
Frederik the Third, who, like many sovereigns of his time,
was much interested in the art of transmuting baser metals
into gold, had charged Ulrik Frederik when he came to
Amsterdam to call on a renowned alchemist, the Italian
Burrhi, and to drop a hint that if he should think of
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