One late night in December, hurried footsteps and cries suddenly rang out through Karl's residence.
Charlotte was about to give birth.
Karl had been reviewing documents in his study. At the news, the quill in his hand snapped down onto the desk. He shot to his feet and practically rushed toward the bedroom. His heart pounded violently in his chest as anticipation and fear surged through him. He had fought countless battles and faced innumerable powerful foes, yet at this moment, he felt a tension unlike anything he had ever known.
Outside the bedroom, several maidservants and midwives bustled in and out, carrying basins of hot water and clean cloths. From within came Charlotte's stifled, agonized moans. Every cry was like a hammer striking heavily against Karl's heart.
Karl wanted to rush inside, but the midwife stopped him at the door. "My lord, you can't go in! Men mustn't watch women give birth! It's unlucky!"
Karl paced in frantic circles outside, helpless to do anything. All he could do was shout through the door to Charlotte, "Charlotte! I'm here! Don't be afraid! I'm right here!"
Charlotte's weak yet resolute voice came from inside. "I... I'm fine... Don't... don't worry..."
Time seemed to stretch unbearably long. Every minute was as torturous as a century. Karl paced back and forth outside the door, his hands trembling faintly from nerves. He remembered when Charlotte had given birth to Klein. Back then, he had waited anxiously outside in the same way, listening to her cries of pain from within, his heart twisted like a knife. He remembered thinking then that, if he could, he would rather have borne that pain in Charlotte's place.
After an unknown amount of time—perhaps one hour, perhaps two—a loud infant's cry suddenly rang out from the bedroom!
The cry