s, and the smile she called to her lip was
hard and forced. A still more remarkable change had taken place in Count
Kalkreuth's appearance. He who generally sparkled with gayety and wit,
whose merry jests had been the delight of the court--he who had been the
very shadow of the princess, her most devoted cavalier--stood now pale
and speechless at a window, gazing sadly at the prince, who was laughing
and talking with his guests, and who had passed him repeatedly without
turning his head. The courtiers, however, saw only the outward signs of
that agony that had almost distracted the count in the last four days.

For four days, since their last meeting in the garden of Rheinsberg, the
prince had not spoken to him. It was in vain he had written and implored
an audience. The prince returned his letters unopened. In vain that at
almost every hour during these four wretched days he had had himself
announced to the prince. Prince Henry would not receive him. And still
he felt the inevitable necessity of having an explanation with
the prince. His heart craved it as the dying man craves the
last consolations of religion. This friendship for the prince,
notwithstanding he had betrayed and wounded it, was, and had always been
to him a sort of religion; he had sinned against it in the folly of his
passion, but he had now come to his senses, and he repented his guilt
bitterly. Not a thought of the princess lingered in his heart; it was
the prince he yearned after; he must speak to him; he must be forgiven
by him. His love for him was greater than ever. Now that he had turned
from him, he knew how much he had lost. He had not yet given up the hope
of an interview; for this, alone had he come to the dinner. But whenever
he endeavored to approach the prince, he had turned from him and entered
into earnest conversation with some bystanders.

Now the prince stood alone at a window; now or never must the count
succeed in speaking to him. Passing through the room hastily, he stood
before Prince Henry.

"My prince," murmured the count, softly, "have pity on me. I entreat you
to listen to me for fifteen minutes!"

The prince fixed his piercing eyes upon the count's pale, agitated
countenance, but did not speak. Then passing proudly before him, he
advanced to meet Prince Frederick William, who had just arrived.

The doors of the dining-saloon were now thrown open, and the guests
approached the richly-covered table, at one end of which sat