"That means," said the prince, bitterly, "that I am free to wander
through the stupid streets of Potsdam; appear at his table; that my
clothes may be soiled by his unbearable four-legged friends, and my
ears deafened by the dull, pedantic conversation of his no less
unbearable two-legged friends."

"Your highness can save yourself from all these small annoyances,"
said Pollnitz; "you have only to marry."

"Marry, bah! That means to give my poor sister-in-law, Elizabeth
Christine, a companion, that they may sing their sorrows to each
other. No, I have not the bravery of my kingly brother, to make a
feeling, human being unhappy in order to satisfy state politics. No,
I possess not the egotism to purchase my freedom with the life-long
misery of another."

"But, mon Dieu! my prince," said Pollnitz, in his cynical way, "you
look at it in too virtuous a manner. All women are not as good and
pure as poor Elizabeth Christine, and know how to compensate
themselves in other quarters for the indifference of their husbands.
We are not speaking here of a common marriage, but of the betrothal
of a prince. You do not marry your heart, but your hand. Truly such
a marriage-ceremony is a protecting talisman, that may be held up to
other women as an iron shield upon which, all their egotistical
wishes, all their extravagant demands must rebound. Moreover, a
married man is entirely sans consequence for all unmarried women,
and if they should love such a one, the happy mortal may be
convinced that his love is really a caprice of the heart, and not a
selfish calculation or desire to marry."