g her the deed, signed by his own hand. She assigned for this
conduct the reasons of a woman in love: he might, later on, return to
Illyria, abandon her for the throne and power; she would not be the
first person whom these terrible State reasons have made tremble and
weep. D'Axel, Wattelet, all the _gommeux_ of the Grand Club little
guessed when the king, quitting the Avenue de Messine, rejoined them at
the club with heavy fevered eyes, that he had spent the evening on a
divan, by turns repulsed or encouraged, his feelings played upon, his
nerves unstrung by the constant resistance; rolling himself at the feet
of an immovable, determined woman, who with a supple opposition
abandoned to his impassioned embrace only the cold little Parisian
hands, so skillful in defense and evasion, while she imprinted on his
lips the scorching flame of the enrapturing words:--"Oh! when you have
ceased to be king, I shall be all yours--all yours!" She made him pass
through all the dangerous phases of passion and coldness; and often at
the theatre, after an icy greeting and a rapid smile, would slowly draw
off her gloves and cast him a tender glance; then, putting her bare hand
in his, she would seem to offer it up to his ardent kiss.

"Then you say, Lebeau, that Pichery will not renew?"

"He will not, sire. If the bills are not paid, the bailiffs will be put
in."

How well he emphasized with a despairing moan the word "bailiffs," so as
to convey the feeling of all the sinister formalities that would follow:
bills protested, an execution, the royal hearth desecrated, the family
turned out of doors. Christian saw nothing of all this. His imagination
carried him far away to the Avenue de Messine: he saw himself arriving
there in the middle of the night, eager and quivering; ascending with
stealthy and hurried step the heavily carpeted stairs, entering the room
where the night-light burned, mysteriously veiled under lace:--"It is
done--I am no longer king. You are mine, mine." And the loved one held
out her hand.

"Come," he exclaimed, starting out of his fleeting dream.

And he signed.

The door opened and the Queen appeared. Her presence in Christian's
rooms at such an hour was so unforeseen, so unexpected, they had lived
so long apart, that neither the King in the act of signing his infamy,
nor Lebeau, who stood watching him, turned round at the slight noise she
made. They thought it was Boscovich coming up from the garden. Gliding