el shepherdess,
who was leading two white lambs decked with ribbons, in a meadow near
by, and replied to his tender pleading with mocking irony. Upon the
little lake, in the neighborhood of which they had assembled, the
snow-white swans swam majestically to and fro. The lovely shepherdesses
stood upon the borders and enticed the swans around them, and laughed
derisively at the shepherds who had embarked in the little boats, and
were now driven sportively back in every direction, and could find no
place to land.

Prince Henry loved this sort of fete, and often gave such at Rheinsberg,
but never had he seemed to enjoy himself so thoroughly as to-day. His
guests generally sympathized in his happiness, but there was one
who looked upon his joyous face with bitterness. This was Louise du
Trouffle, once Louise von Kleist, once the beloved of the prince.

She was married, and her handsome, amiable, and intelligent husband was
ever by her side; but the old wounds still burned, and her pride bled
at the contempt of the prince. She knew he was ignorant of the great
sacrifice she had been forced to make--that he despised, in place of
admiring and pitying her.

The prince, in order to show his utter indifference, had invited her
husband and herself to court. In the pride of his sick and wounded
heart, he resolved to convince the world that the beautiful Louise
von Kleist had not scorned and rejected his love. In her presence he
resolved to show his young wife the most lover-like attentions, and
prove to his false mistress that he neither sought nor fled from
her--that he had utterly forgotten her.

But Louise was not deceived by this acting. She understood him
thoroughly, and knew better than the prince himself, that his
indifference was assumed, and his contempt and scorn was a veil thrown
over his betrayed and quivering heart to conceal his sufferings from
her. Louise had the courage to accept Prince Henry's invitations, and to
take part in all the festivities with which he ostentatiously celebrated
his happiness. She had the courage to receive his cutting coldness, his
cruel sarcasm, his contempt, with calm composure and sweet submission.
With the smile of a stoic, she offered her defenceless breast to his
poisoned arrows, and even the tortures she endured were precious in
her sight. She was convinced that the prince had not relinquished or
forgotten her--that his indifference and contempt was assumed to hide
his living, br