eathing love. For some time past the change in the manners
and bearing of the prince had not escaped the sharp, searching glance
of the experienced coquette. For a long time he appeared not to see
her--now she felt that he did not see her. He had been wont to say the
most indifferent things to her in a fierce, excited tone--now he was
self-possessed, and spoke to her softly and kindly.

"The wound has healed," said Louise du Trouffle to herself. "He no
longer scorns because he no longer loves me." But she did not know that
he had not only ceased to love her, but loved another passionately.
This suspicion was excited, however, for the first time to-day. In the
flashing eye, the glad smile, the proud glance which he fixed upon his
fair young wife, Louise discovered that Henry had buried the old love
and a new one had risen from its ashes. This knowledge tortured her
heart in a wild storm of jealousy. She forgot all considerations
of prudence, all fear, even of the king. She had been compelled to
relinquish the hand of the prince, but she would not lose him wholly.
Perhaps he would return to her when he knew what a fearful offering she
had made to him. He would recognize her innocence, and mourn over the
tortures he had inflicted during the last year. She would try this! She
would play her last trump, and dare all with the hope of winning.

There stood the prince under the shadow of a large tree, gazing dreamily
at his wife, who, with other shepherdesses, and her shepherd, Count
Kalkreuth, was feeding the swans on the border of the lake. The prince
was alone, and Louise rashly resolved to approach him. He greeted her
with a slight nod, and turning his eyes again upon his wife, he said,
carelessly, "Are you also here, Madame du Trouffle?"

"Your royal highness did me the honor to invite me--I am accustomed to
obey your wishes, and I am here."

"That is kind," said the prince, abstractedly, still glancing at the
princess.

Louise sighed deeply, and stepping nearer, she said, "Are you still
angry with me, my prince? Have you never forgiven me?"

"What?" said the prince, quietly; "I do not remember that I have any
thing to forgive."

"Ah, I see! you despise me still," said Louise, excitedly; "but I
will bear this no longer! I will no longer creep about like a culprit,
burdened with your curse and your scorn. You shall at least know what it
cost me to earn your contempt--what a tearful sacrifice I was compelled
to make