mer, and promised to do whatever he desired, if he would but remain
and sustain her through the ordeal of her betrothal.

He believed himself abandoned by the woman whom he had loved, but his
heart was cold. He told himself that he would live henceforth without
love, but would endeavour in purest friendship to save this woman who
leaned on him for strength from making shipwreck of her life. They met
constantly in the intimacy of rehearsals, and as these proceeded
personal sentiments were occasionally introduced into the lines.

[Illustration: Choosing the Casket

From the painting by F. Barth. Permission of the Berlin Photographic Co.]

"Ah, me! this word choose," Marie de' Medici exclaimed on one occasion.
"I may neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike. So is the
will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father."

On the evening of the final presentation of the play she startled
Brandilancia by laying her hand in his as she interpolated the
declaration: "My spirit commits itself to yours to be directed, as by
her lord, her governor, and king."

The play ended, she led him to a portico overlooking the lake.

"I have only a moment," she said, "while I am supposed to be dressing
for the dance which follows. You doubtless recognised in the small dark
man seated at my uncle's side the Duke of Nevers, and you have probably
informed him of your presence here; but my uncle little suspects that we
have anticipated their negotiation. Now surely is the proper time to
announce yourself. Wait in the ante-room of the Marquis, it adjoins the
library, and after the Grand Duke has set his signature to the
settlement, and the Duke of Nevers is about to sign for the King of
France, enter, take the pen from his hand, and sign for yourself. If you
wish I will accompany you, and we will confess that we are already
affianced. Why do you hesitate? Surely this is now the only thing to
do."

He gazed at her in uncomprehending astonishment. "Nay, dearest lady," he
protested, "put this wild fancy from your mind. Your uncle would never
accept me as your suitor; you would gain only dishonour by such a
course. Bid me farewell, and forget me in the glory of your new life;
and God help us both."

"Nay, I can not, I can not give you up," she cried passionately her arms
about his neck, "you have made me love you. I shall die if you leave
me."

"If this is true," he stammered, "if by some miracle you do indeed love