ions of men will shout and call him their king; and when I
look upon his handsome face, and see him in the midst of his people,
surrounded by pomp and splendor, I dare say to myself, That is my work.
I loved him more than I loved myself, therefore he wears a crown--I
had the courage not only to die for him, but to live without him, and
therefore is he a king. Oh, my beloved, say not that you are dying!"

"If you love me truly, Laura, you will not wish me to live. Indeed I
have long been dying. For sixteen years I have felt the death-worm in my
heart--it gnaws and gnaws. I have tried to crush it--I wished to live,
because I had promised you to bear my burden. I wished to prove myself a
man. I gave the love which you laid at my feet, bathed in our tears and
our blood, to my fatherland. I was told that I must marry, to promote
the interest of my country, and I did so. I laid a mask over my face,
and a mask over my heart. I wished to play my part in the drama of life
to the end; I wished to honor my royal birth to which fate had condemned
me. But it appears I was a bad actor. I was cast out from my service,
my gay uniform and royal star torn from my breast. I, a prince, was sent
home a humiliated, degraded, ragged beggar. I crept with my misery and
my shame into this corner, and no one followed me. No one showed a spark
of love for the poor, spurned cast-away. Love would have enabled me to
overcome all, to defy the world, and to oppose its slanders boldly. I
was left alone to bear my shame and my despair--wholly alone. I have a
wife, I have children, and I am alone; they live far away from me, and
at the moment of my death they will smile and be happy. I am the heir of
a throne, but a poor beggar; I asked only of fate a little love, but I
asked in vain. Fate had no pity--only when I am dead will I be a prince
again; then they will heap honors upon my dead body. Oh, Laura! how it
burns in my heart--how terrible is this hell-fire of shame! It eats up
the marrow of my bones and devours my brain. Oh, my head, my head! how
terrible is this pain!"

With a loud sob he sank back on the pillow; his eyes closed, great drops
of sweat stood on his brow, and the breath seemed struggling in his
breast.

Laura bowed over him, she wiped away the death-sweat with her hair, and
hot tears fell on the poor wan face. These tears aroused him--he opened
his eyes.

"I have got something to say," whispered he; "I feel that I shall soon
be well.