n when you
should find me worthy of your high regard. I was a--free born woman, and
as I could not give my hand to him I loved, I gave my heart--that heart
which you rejected. You have the right to kill me, but not to despise
me--to dishonor me."

"Do I dishonor you when I speak the truth?" cried the prince.

"You do not speak the truth. I have sinned heavily against you. I
suffered your love--I could not return it. I had not the courage when I
saw you, who had so long disdained me, lying at my feet, declaring your
passion and imploring my love in return, to confess to you that I could
never love you--that my heart was no longer free. This is my crime--this
alone. I could not force my heart to love you, but I could be faithful
to my duty, and I have been so. It is not necessary for me to blush
and cast my eyes down before my husband. My love is pure--my virtue
untarnished. I have broken no faith with you."

"Miserable play on words!" said the prince. "You have been a
hypocrite--your crime is twofold: you have sinned against me--you have
sinned against your love. You have been a base coward who had not the
courage to do justice to the feelings of your own heart. What mean you
by saying you have broken no faith with me? You have acted a daily lie.
Oh, madame, how have I loved you! Both body and soul were lost in that
wild love. When you stood with your lover and listened well pleased to
those glowing confessions of his sinful love, you excused yourself and
thought, forsooth, you were breaking no faith. You have defrauded me of
the woman I loved and the friend whom I trusted. May God curse you, even
as I do! May Heaven chastise you, even as I shall!"

He raised both his hands over her as if he would call down Heaven's
curse upon her guilty head, then turned and left the room.

CHAPTER XII. THE MORNING AT SANS-SOUCI. It was five o'clock in the
morning. Deep silence reigned, the darkness of night still encompassed
the world, the weary might still sleep and rest, life had recommenced
nowhere, nowhere except at Sans-Souci, nowhere except in the apartment
of the king; while his people slept, the king watched, he watched to
work and think for his people. Without the wind howled and blew the snow
against his window, and made even the fire in his room flicker; but the
king heeded it not. He had completed his toilet and drunk his chocolate;
now he was working. It did not disturb him that his room was cold,
that the candl