r!

If she had confided to him the matter which so deeply troubled her and
yet filled her with the greatest pride, the poor old warrior, who valued
honour far more than life, would have turned her out of the house.

Early that morning she had averted her lips from his because she felt
as if the Emperor's kiss had consecrated them. She was still under the
mastery of the feeling that some disagreeable dream had borne her back
to these miserable rooms, while her true place was in the magnificent
apartments of royalty.

She had slept too late to attend mass, and therefore went to the private
chapel, the abode of the only confidante to whom she could open her
whole heart without reserve or timidity--the Mother of God.

She had done this with entire devotion, and endeavoured to reflect upon
what had happened and what obligations she must meet. But she had had
little success, for as soon as she began to think, her august lover rose
before her eyes, she imagined that she heard his tender words, and her
mind wandered to the future.

Only she had clearly perceived that she had lost something infinitely
great, and obtained in its place something that was far more exquisite,
that she had been deemed worthy of a loftier honour, a richer happiness
than any one else.

Ah, yes, she was happy, more than happy, and yet not entirely so, for
happiness must be bright, and a dark, harassing shadow fell again and
again over the sunny enthusiasm which irradiated her nature and lent her
a haughtier bearing.

She ascribed it to the novelty of her elevation to a height of which she
had never dreamed. Eyes accustomed to twilight must also endure pain,
she told herself, ere they became used to the brilliance of the sun.

Perhaps Heaven, in return for such superabundant gifts, demanded a
sacrifice, and denied complete enjoyment. She would gladly do all in her
power to satisfy the claim, and so she formed the resolve--which seemed
to her to possess an atoning power--no longer to deceive the worthy man
who loved her so loyally, and for whom she felt an affection. At the
very next opportunity Wolf should learn that she could never become his,
and when she had just confessed it so gently and lovingly, she had only
fulfilled the vow made in the chapel before the Virgin's image. There,
too, she had determined, if the Emperor ever gave her any power over his
decisions, to reward Wolf's loyal love by interceding for him wherever
it could be done.