Louise, and the little flirtation we carried on together would have
resulted in earnest love on my part. That would have been a great
misfortune. Laugh and look joyous, beautiful eyes, you have saved me
from an unrequited love. You should not weep, but rejoice. Look
around and find another suitor, who would, perhaps, love me so
fondly that he could not forget me in a few days; whose love I might
return with ardor.' This, my prince, is the sermon I preached to my
eyes when they grew dim with tears."

"And was your sermon effective?" said the prince, with pale,
trembling lips. "Did your eyes, those obedient slaves, look around
and find another lover?"

"Ah! your highness, how can you doubt it? My eyes are indeed my
slaves, and must obey. Yes, they looked and found the happiness they
sought."

"What happiness," asked Henry, apparently quite tranquil, but he
pressed his hand nervously on the chair that stood by him--"what
happiness did your eyes find?"

Louise looked at him and sighed deeply. "The happiness," she said,
and against her will her voice trembled and faltered--"the happiness
that a true, earnest love alone can give--which I have received
joyously into my heart as a gift from God."

The prince laughed aloud, but his face had a wild, despairing
expression, and his hands clasped the chair more firmly.

"I do not understand your holy, pious words. What do they mean? What