do you wish to say?"

"They mean that I now love so truly and so earnestly that I have
promised to become the wife of the man I love," said Louise, with
forced gayety.

The prince uttered a wild cry, and raised his hands as if to curse
the one who had wounded him so painfully.

"If this is true," he said, in a deep, hollow voice--"if this is
true, I despise, I hate you, and they are right who call you a
heartless coquette."

"Ah, my prince, you insult me," cried Louise.

"I insult you!" he said, with a wild laugh; "verily, I believe this
woman has the effrontery to reproach me--I who believed in and
defended her against every accusation--I that had the courage to
love and trust, when all others distrusted and despised her. Yes,
madame, I loved you: I saw in you a goddess, where others saw only a
coquette. I adored you as an innocent sacrifice to envy and malice;
I saw a martyr's crown upon your brow, and wished to change it for
the myrtle-crown of marriage. And my love and hopes are dust and
ashes; it is enough to drive me mad--enough to stifle me with rage
and shame." Carried away by passion, the prince ran wildly through
the saloon, gasping for air, struggling for composure, and now and
then uttering words of imprecation and despair.

Louise waited, in silence and resignation, the end of this stormy
crisis. She questioned her heart if this bitter hour was not