is more than the strongest, bravest heart can endure. Your majesty
knows that the prince loves me passionately. Ah, sire, your brother
would have forfeited his rank and your favor by marrying me, but he
would have been a happy man; and I ask the king if that is not, at
last, the best result? Are you, sire, content and happy since you
trampled your breathing, loving heart to death at the foot of the
throne? You command your brother to do as you have done. Well, sire,
I submit--not only to resign the prince, but to marry again, to
marry without love. Perhaps my soul will be lost by this perjury,
but what matters that--it is a plaything in the hands of the king?
He may break my heart, but it shall not be dishonored and trodden in
the dust. The prince shall cease to love me, but I will not be
despised by him. He shall not think me a miserable coquette,
despise, and laugh at me. Now, sire, you can crush me in your anger.
I have said what I had to say--you know my decision."

She bowed her head almost to the earth; motionless, kneeling at the
foot of the king, her hands folded on her breast, she might in
reality have been taken for an odalisque but that her sad, tearful
face was not in unison with the situation or costume.

A long pause ensued--a solemn, fearful pause. The king struggled
with his rage, Louise with her disappointment and distress. Sounds
of laughter, the gay notes of music reached them from the dancing-
saloon. The ball had commenced, and youth and beauty were mingling
in the dance. These sounds aroused the king, and the sad contrast
made Louise shudder.

"You will not, then, comply with my request?" said the king,
sternly.