king, to make the sacrifice that is asked of me--let
it not be too great a one. Your majesty asks that I shall draw down the
contempt of the man I love upon myself; that this man must not only
give me up, but scorn me. You require too much. This is more than the
strongest, bravest heart can endure. Your majesty knows that the prince
loves me passionately. Ah, sire, your brother would have forfeited his
rank and your favor by marrying me, but he would have been a happy man;
and I ask the king if that is not, at last, the best result? Are you,
sire, content and happy since you trampled your breathing, loving heart
to death at the foot of the throne? You command your brother to do as
you have done. Well, sire, I submit--not only to resign the prince, but
to marry again, to marry without love. Perhaps my soul will be lost by
this perjury, but what matters that--it is a plaything in the hands
of the king? He may break my heart, but it shall not be dishonored and
trodden in the dust. The prince shall cease to love me, but I will not
be despised by him. He shall not think me a miserable coquette, despise,
and laugh at me. Now, sire, you can crush me in your anger. I have said
what I had to say--you know my decision."

She bowed her head almost to the earth; motionless, kneeling at the foot
of the king, her hands folded on her breast, she might in reality have
been taken for an odalisque but that her sad, tearful face was not in
unison with the situation or costume.

A long pause ensued--a solemn, fearful pause. The king struggled
with his rage, Louise with her disappointment and distress. Sounds of
laughter, the gay notes of music reached them from the dancing-saloon.
The ball had commenced, and youth and beauty were mingling in the dance.
These sounds aroused the king, and the sad contrast made Louise shudder.

"You will not, then, comply with my request?" said the king, sternly.

"Sire, I cannot!" murmured Louise, raising her hands imploringly to the
king.

"You cannot!" cried the king, whose face glowed with anger; "you cannot,
that means you will not, because your vain, coquettish heart will not
resign the love of the prince. You submit to resign his hand, because
you must; but you wish to retain his love: he must think of you as a
heavenly ideal, to be adored and longed for, placed amongst the stars
for worship. Ah, madame, you are not willing to make the gulf between
you impassable! You say you wish, at least, to re