me."

The count sprang back as if wounded. "He loves you!" he cried, in a
loud, almost threatening tone. "For pity's sake speak low," said the
princess. "Look, the ladies turn toward us, and are listening curiously,
and you have frightened the swans from the shore. Laugh, I pray you;
speak a few loud and jesting words, count, I implore you."

"I cannot," said the count. "Command me to throw myself into the lake
and I will obey you joyfully, and in dying I will call your name and
bless it; but do not ask me to smile when you tell me that the prince
loves you."

"Yes, he loves me; he confessed it to-day," said the princess,
shuddering. "Oh, it was a moment of inexpressible horror; a moment in
which that became a sin which, until then, had been pure and innocent.
So long as my husband did not love me, or ask my love, I was free to
bestow it where I would and when I would; so soon as he loves me, and
demands my love, I am a culprit if I refuse it."

"And I false to my friend," murmured Kalkreuth.

"We must instantly separate," whispered she. "We must bury our love
out of our sight, which until now has lived purely and modestly in our
hearts, and this must be its funeral procession. You see I have already
begun to deck the grave with flowers, and that tears are consecrating
them." She pointed with her jewelled hand to the bouquet of white
camelias which adorned her bosom.

"It was cruel not to wear my flowers," said the count. "Was it not
enough to crush me?--must you also trample my poor flowers, consecrated
with my kisses and my whispers, under your feet?"

"The red roses which you gave me," said she, lightly, "I will keep as a
remembrance of the beautiful and glorious dream which the rude
reality of life has dissipated. These camelias are superb, but without
fragrance, and colorless as my sad features. I must wear them, for my
husband gave them to me, and in so doing I decorate the grave of my
love. Farewell!--hereafter I will live for my duties; as I cannot accept
your love, I will merit your highest respect. Farewell, and if from this
time onward we are cold and strange, never forget that our souls belong
to each other, and when I dare no longer think of the past, I will pray
for you."

"You never loved me," whispered the count, with pallid, trembling lips,
"or you could not give me up so rashly; you would not have the cruel
courage to spurn me from you. You are weary of me, and since the prince
loves you, yo