tener nearer than her
maid of honor; Fraulein Marshal was still near the Princess Amelia, and
she was somewhat isolated by etiquette; she saw, therefore, that she
dared carry on this conversation.

"Why will you not take my flowers?" she said, proudly.

The count drew nearer. "I will tell you, princess," said he--"I will
tell you, if this passionate pain now burning in my breast does not slay
me. I will not take your flowers, because I will not be a messenger of
love between you and the prince; because I cannot accept the shame and
degradation which such an office would lay upon me. Princess you have
forgotten, but I remember there was a wondrous time in which I, and
not the prince, was favored with a like precious gift. At that time you
allowed me to hope that this glowing, inextinguishable feeling which
filled my heart, my soul, found an echo in your breast; that at least
you would not condemn me to die unheard, misunderstood."

"I knew not at that time that my husband loved me," murmured the
princess; "I thought I was free and justified in giving that heart which
no one claimed to whom I would."

"You had no sooner learned that the prince loved you than you turned
from me, proud and cold," said the count, bitterly; "relentlessly,
without mercy, without pity, you trampled my heart under your feet, and
not a glance, not a word showed me that you had any remembrance of the
past. I will tell you what I suffered. You have a cold heart, it will
make you happy to hear of any anguish. I loved you so madly I almost
hated you; in the madness of my passion I cursed you. I thanked God for
the war, which forced me to that for which I had never found the moral
strength to leave you. Yes, I was grateful when the war called me to the
field--I hoped to die. I did not wish to dishonor my name by suicide. I
was recklessly brave, because I despised life--I rushed madly into the
ranks of the enemy, seeking death at their hands, but God's blessed
minister disdained me even as you had done. I was borne alive from the
battle-field and brought to Berlin to be nursed and kindly cared for.
No one knew that here I received daily new and bitter wounds. You were
always cruel, cruel even to the last moment; you saw my sufferings, but
you were inexorable. Oh, princess, it would have been better to refuse
me entrance, to banish me from your presence, than to make my heart
torpid under the influence of your cold glance, your polished speech,
whic