"I cannot," said the count. "Command me to throw myself into the
lake and I will obey you joyfully, and in dying I will call your
name and bless it; but do not ask me to smile when you tell me that
the prince loves you."

"Yes, he loves me; he confessed it to-day," said the princess,
shuddering. "Oh, it was a moment of inexpressible horror; a moment
in which that became a sin which, until then, had been pure and
innocent. So long as my husband did not love me, or ask my love, I
was free to bestow it where I would and when I would; so soon as he
loves me, and demands my love, I am a culprit if I refuse it."

"And I false to my friend," murmured Kalkreuth.

"We must instantly separate," whispered she. "We must bury our love
out of our sight, which until now has lived purely and modestly in
our hearts, and this must be its funeral procession. You see I have
already begun to deck the grave with flowers, and that tears are
consecrating them." She pointed with her jewelled hand to the
bouquet of white camelias which adorned her bosom.

"It was cruel not to wear my flowers," said the count. "Was it not
enough to crush me?--must you also trample my poor flowers,
consecrated with my kisses and my whispers, under your feet?"

"The red roses which you gave me," said she, lightly, "I will keep
as a remembrance of the beautiful and glorious dream which the rude
reality of life has dissipated. These camelias are superb, but
without fragrance, and colorless as my sad features. I must wear
them, for my husband gave them to me, and in so doing I decorate the