af ears," said the prince, shrugging his
shoulders. "We will not quarrel about the meaning of a word. I only
wish to make you understand that I would not marry at my brother's bon
plaisir. I will not continue this race of miserable princes, that are
entirely useless, and consequently a burden to the state. Oh! if Heaven
would only give me the opportunity to distinguish myself before this
people, and give to this name that is go small, so unworthy, a splendor,
a color, a signification!"

"Your highness is ambitous," said Pollnitz, as the prince, now silent,
paced his room with deep emotion.

"Yes, I am ambitious--I thirst for action, renown, and activity. I
despise this monotonous, colorless existence, without end or aim. By
God! how happy I should be, if, instead of a prince, I could be a simple
private man, proprietor of a small landed estate, with a few hundred
subjects, that I should endeavor to make happy! But I am nothing but
a king's brother, have nothing but my empty title and the star upon my
coat. My income is so small, so pitiful, that it would scarcely suffice
to pay the few servants I have, if, at the same time, they were not paid
by the king as his spies."

"But all this will cease as soon as you speak the decisive word; as soon
as you declare yourself prepared to marry."

"And you dare to tell me this?" cried the prince, with flashing
eyes--"you, that know I love a lady who is unfortunately no princess; or
do you believe that a miserable prince has not the heart of a man--that
he does not possess the ardent desire, the painful longing for the woman
he loves?"

"Oh, women do not deserve that we should love them so ardently; they are
all fickle and inconstant, believe me, my prince."

The prince cast a quick, questioning glance at the smiling countenance
of the courtier.

"Why do you say this to me?" he asked, anxiously.

"Because I am convinced of its truth, your highness; because I believe
no woman has the power to preserve her love when obstacles are placed in
the way, or that she can be faithful for the short space of eight days,
if her lover is absent."

The prince was startled, and looked terrified at Pollnitz.

"Eight days," he murmured; "it is eight days--no, it is twelve since I
saw Louise."

"Ah, twelve days--and your highness has the really heroic belief that
she still loves you?"

The prince sighed, and his brow clouded, but only for a few moments, and
his countenance was again br