"We will say in eight days. You see I am anxious to become speedily
acquainted with one blissful mortal, and I think that the husband of
the beautiful Madame Kleist will be supremely happy. In eight days,
then, you will be engaged, and, to complete your good work, you must
announce this happy fact to my brother Henry. Of course, he must not
even surmise that you sacrifice yourself in order to set him a good
example. No, you will complete your noble work, and tell him that a
love which you could not control induced you to take this step; and
that he may not doubt your words, you will tell your story
cheerfully--yes, joyously."

"Sire, it is too much--I cannot do it," cried Madame von Kleist. "It
is enough to trample upon my own heart; your majesty cannot desire
me to give the prince his death-blow."

The king's eyes flashed angrily, but he controlled himself.

"His death!" he repeated, shrugging his shoulders, "as if men died
of such small wounds. You know better yourself. You know that the
grave of one love is the cradle of another. Be wise, and do as I
tell you: in eight days you will be engaged, and then you will have
the kindness to acquaint Prince Henry with your happy prospects."

"Ah, sire, do not be so cruel as to ask this of me," cried Louise,
gliding from the divan upon her knees, "be merciful. I am ready to
obey the commands of my king, to make the sacrifice that is asked of
me--let it not be too great a one. Your majesty asks that I shall
draw down the contempt of the man I love upon myself; that this man
must not only give me up, but scorn me. You require too much. This