your highness blame me for this?"

The prince listened with breathless attention; gradually his countenance
changed, the color faded from his cheeks, the light from his eyes;
a smile was still on his lips, but it was cold and mocking; his eyes
burned with anger and contempt.

"No, madame," he said, with calm, proud indifference, "I do not blame
you--I praise, I congratulate you. Captain du Trouffle is a most
fortunate man--he will possess a most beautiful wife. When will this
happy ceremony be performed?"

Madame von Kleist was unable to reply. She gazed with wild terror into
his cold, iron face--she listened with horror to that voice, whose mild,
soft tone had become suddenly so harsh, so stern.

The prince repeated his question, and his tone was harder and more
imperious.

"The day is not fixed," said Louise; "we must first obtain the king's
consent to our marriage."

"I shall take care it does not fail you," said the prince, quietly.

"I will strengthen your petition to the king. Now, madame, you must
forgive me for leaving you. Many greetings to your betrothed--I shall be
introduced to him to-morrow at the parade. Farewell, madame!"

The prince made a slight bow, and, without glancing at her again, left
the room slowly and proudly.

Louise gazed after him with mournful eyes, but he did not see it; he
did not see how she fell, as if broken, to the floor, as if struck by
lightning; and when the door closed on him she held her hands to Heaven
pleadingly for mercy and forgiveness.

The portiere now opened, and the king entered; his countenance was pale,
his eyes tearful, but they sparkled with anger when he saw Louise upon
the floor. For him she was but a heartless coquette, and he was angry
with her because of the suffering she had caused his brother, for whom
he felt the deepest pity and compassion.

But that was now past; the brother could weep a tear of pity, the king
must be firm and relentless.

As he approached her, she raised herself from the ground and made a
profound and ceremonious bow.

"You have repaired much of the evil you have done, madame," said the
king, sternly. "You have played a dishonorable game with my brother. You
enticed him to love you."

"I think I have atoned, sire," said Louise, faintly; "the prince no
longer loves but despises me. Your commands are fulfilled to the letter,
and I now beg your majesty's permission to withdraw."

"Go, madame; you have done your duty to-day