but we took perhaps a
glass more than that fine fellow of a Prince has been accustomed to,"
said the Governor; "and I observe this morning that he seems a little
off his mettle. We'll get him mellow again ere bedtime. This is his
door."

"Well," she whispered, "let me get my breath. No, no; wait. Have the
door ready to open." And the Countess, standing like one inspired, shook
out her fine voice in "Lascia ch'io pianga"; and when she had reached
the proper point, and lyrically uttered forth her sighings after
liberty, the door, at a sign, was flung wide open, and she swam into the
Prince's sight, bright-eyed, and with her colour somewhat freshened by
the exercise of singing. It was a great dramatic entrance, and to the
somewhat doleful prisoner within the sight was sunshine.

"Ah, madam," he cried, running to her--"you here!"

She looked meaningly at Gordon; and as soon as the door was closed she
fell on Otto's neck. "To see you here!" she moaned and clung to him.

But the Prince stood somewhat stiffly in that enviable situation, and
the Countess instantly recovered from her outburst.

"Poor child," she said, "poor child! Sit down beside me here, and tell
me all about it. My heart really bleeds to see you. How does time go?"

"Madam," replied the Prince, sitting down beside her, his gallantry
recovered, "the time will now go all too quickly till you leave. But I
must ask you for the news. I have most bitterly condemned myself for my
inertia of last night. You wisely counselled me: it was my duty to
resist. You wisely and nobly counselled me; I have since thought of it
with wonder. You have a noble heart."

"Otto," she said, "spare me. Was it even right, I wonder? I have duties,
too, you poor child; and when I see you they all melt--all my good
resolutions fly away."

"And mine still come too late," he replied, sighing. "O, what would I
not give to have resisted? What would I not give for freedom?"

"Well, what would you give?" she asked; and the red fan was spread; only
her eyes, as if from over battlements, brightly surveyed him.

"I? What do you mean? Madam, you have some news for me," he cried.

"O, O!" said madam dubiously.

He was at her feet. "Do not trifle with my hopes," he pleaded. "Tell me,
dearest Madame von Rosen, tell me! You cannot be cruel: it is not in
your nature. Give? I can give nothing; I have nothing; I can only plead
in mercy."

"Do not," she said; "it is not fair. Otto, you know my