rse--the eternal condemnation, brought by a broken heart. Eberhard, my
beloved! See--I implore you!'

'I must go--I must leave you--sinon je suis perdu--sinon je suis
perdu,'--and so they wrangled, and exclaimed, and implored for an hour.

'Your last word then is: Go, woman who has loved me for twenty years!'
she said bitterly at last. 'Yes? Well, then, hear me: I will not
go!--never, do you hear? We belong together, you and I. All this is some
madness of yours, which will pass. Come back to me to-morrow and tell me
so, then all will be well. It is well, do you hear? You are maddened,
distraught----'

'This is my last word: Retire to one of your castles. I leave you your
properties and your title, but Ludwigsburg must see you no more.'

She laughed in defiance. 'I will not go till you drive me forth at the
point of the bayonet. Your friend, the King of Prussia, can teach you
bayonet drill, and you can practise it on my heart.'

Then he rode away from La Favorite, his horse's hoofs outraging the
peaceful dew.

* * * * *

Directly Serenissimus had ridden away, as if in defiance of impending
fate, the Landhofmeisterin sent to summon the officers of the Secret
Service. She would work, give commands, according to her wont. The
officers tarried, and her Excellency waited in her yellow-hung salon.
Would they dare, the creeping spies--dare to disobey her? she wondered.
She passed out on to the terrace and glanced down the chestnut avenue.
With a feeling of relief she recognised one of the Secret Service
officers. He was hurrying to La Favorite as fast as, in other days, they
and all the world had hastened to do her bidding.

She re-entered her sitting-room and, seating herself at her bureau, began
to draft a ducal manifesto. The door opened, and, to her surprise, not
the Secret Service officer whom she had thought to recognise, but a very
inferior official, a mere spy, entered. He walked in without removing his
hat, and came close up to the Graevenitz.

'What will you give me for my information?' he said roughly.

'What do you mean? You have come to report, I suppose; though why my
chief officer, Jacoble, sends you, I do not know,' she returned
haughtily. He leaned his hand on the bureau beside her.

'I have information which may save your life, but you must pay me for
it.' She rang her handbell.

'My lackeys will show you how I pay the insolent,' she said.

'Your lackeys! There wil