r to each of his
fair daughters,--his own bloomed sweetly upon his breast, proving the
purity and fidelity of his heart. Edith's cheek was pale, from her late
watchings; but never had she looked more lovely than when she placed the
rose upon her bosom; her face was glorified by its expression. And
Clotilda's ill-concealed scorn and jealousy not only detracted from her
queenly beauty, but the flower paled as it touched her breast--pride and
worldliness, and every selfish passion, had swayed her being too long,
to be repressed at a moment's notice--like the fumes of poison, they
were taking away the life of the precious rose. It was impossible that
the contrast should not be noticed: comparisons were made which filled
the mind of the despotic Clotilda with rage against her unoffending
sister; and the more violent her evil passions became, the fainter grew
the perfume of her flower, and the more fading its hue. Not all the
flattery of her adorers could restore her equanimity; and her face
showed, only too plainly, the workings of the evil spirit within.

At last the day approached when the fate of the empire and of so many
individuals was to be decided. Clotilda, meantime, consistent in her
desire for universal sway, received the homage of all her admirers, but
refused to declare her preference until the day of public betrothal--the
day when she proudly expected to be hailed as Empress. Her numerous
suitors indulged in flattering hopes, each for himself; while all agreed
in pitying the delusion of the rest. The electors met in the
audience-chamber, which was splendidly decorated for the occasion: all
the dignitaries of the State, and the great nobility were assembled,
presenting a very imposing spectacle. The Emperor was seated upon a
throne, but the crown and sceptre, whose weight he felt himself unequal
longer to endure, lay upon a cushion at his side. The people, in a dense
mass, thronged the courtyard of the palace, anxious to know the result
of the election, and to hail the new lord of the land.

At the appointed hour, the doors were flung open, and the two royal
brides entered, followed by their maids of honor. Clotilda,
self-possessed in her proud beauty, looked like a queen indeed. She was
magnificently dressed, and the pale, scentless rose upon her breast was
almost hidden by diamonds. But many there turned their eyes from her
handsome, haughty face, to gaze upon young Edith, who leaned upon the
arm of her betrot