Colombe since his first glimpse of her at Cleves, a year ago; who has
begun to hope that his affection is returned; and who knows that the
Prince's message is not only a test of her higher nature, but a snare to
it, feels nevertheless bound to leave her choice free. This choice lies
clearly between love and power; for Berthold parades a cynicism half
affected, half real; and on being questioned as to his feeling for the
lady, has dismissed the question as irrelevant.

Valence is, throughout the play, an advocate in the best sense of the
word. As he has pleaded the wrongs of an oppressed people, he sets forth
the happiness of a successful prince--the happiness which the young
Duchess is invited to share; and he departs from all the
conventionalities of fiction, by showing her the true poetry, not the
artificial splendours, of worldly success. Colombe is almost as grateful
as the young Prince could desire, for she assumes that he has fallen in
love with her, whether he says so or not; and here, too, Valence must
speak the truth. "The Prince does not love her." "How does he know
this?" "He knows it by the insight of one who does love." Astonished,
vaguely pained, Colombe questions him as to the object of his
attachment, and, in probably real ignorance of who it can be, draws him
on to a confession. For a moment she is disenchanted. "So much unselfish
devotion to turn out merely love! She will at all events see Valence's
rival."

In the last act she discusses the Prince's proposal with himself. He
frankly rests it on its advantages for both. He has much to say in
favour of such an understanding, and reminds his listener as she
questions and temporizes, that if he gives no heart he also asks none.
The courtiers now see their opportunity. They inform the Prince that by
her late father's will the Duchess forfeits her rights in the event of