The portiere now opened, and the king entered; his countenance was pale, his eyes tearful, but they sparkled with anger when he saw Louise upon the floor. For him she was but a heartless coquette, and he was angry with her because of the suffering she had caused his brother, for whom he felt the deepest pity and compassion.
But that was now past; the brother could weep a tear of pity, the king must be firm and relentless.
As he approached her, she raised herself from the ground and made a profound and ceremonious bow.
"You have repaired much of the evil you have done, madame," said the king, sternly. "You have played a dishonorable game with my brother. You enticed him to love you."
"I think I have atoned, sire," said Louise, faintly; "the prince no longer loves but despises me. Your commands are fulfilled to the letter, and I now beg your majesty's permission to withdraw."
"Go, madame; you have done your duty to-day, and I will also do mine. I shall not forget what I promised you when you are Madame du Trouffle. We will forget all the faults of Madame von Kleist."
He dismissed her with a slight bow, and gazed after her until she had disappeared.
At this moment, a heavy fall was heard in the antechamber. The door opened immediately, and the pale, disturbed face of Pollnitz appeared.
"What is the matter, Pollnitz?" asked the king, hastily.
"Oh, sire, poor Prince Henry has fainted."
The king was startled, and stepped quickly to the door, but he remained standing there until his features resumed their calm expression.
"He will recover," he said--"he will recover, for he is a man; in my youthful days I often fainted, but I recovered."
CHAPTER X. THE CONQUERED.
Painful and bitter were the days for Henry that followed his first disappointment. He passed them in rigid seclusion, in his lonely chambers; he would see no one, no cheerful word or gay laughter was allowed in his presence. The servants looked at him sorrowfully; and when the prince appeared at the parade the day after his painful interview with Louise, even the king found him so pale and suffering, he begged him to take a week's leave and strengthen and improve his health.
The prince smiled painfully at the king's proposition, but he accepted his leave of absence, and withdrew to the solitude of his rooms. His heart was wounded unto death, his soul was agonized. Youth soon laid its healing balm upon his wounds and closed them; anger and contempt dried his tears, and soothed the anguish of his heart.
The king was right when he said of his brother, "He is a man, and will recover." He did recover, and these days of suffering made a man of him; his brow, once so clear and youthful, had received its first mark of sorrow; the lines of his face were harsh and stern, his features sharper and more decided. He had experienced his first disappointment--it had nerved and strengthened him.
Before his eight days' leave of absence had expired, his door was again open to his circle of friends and confidants.
His first invited guest was the grand chamberlain, Baron Pollnitz. The prince welcomed him with a bright and cheerful face.
"Do you know why I wished to see you?" he asked. "You must tell me the chronique scandaleuse of our most honorable and virtuous city. Commence immediately. What is the on dit of the day?"
"Ah," sighed Pollnitz, "life is now stupid, dull, and monotonous. As you say, every one has become most honorable and virtuous. No scandals or piquant adventures occur; baptisms, marriages, and burials are the only events. This is really a miserable existence; for as I do not wish to be baptized or to marry, and as I am not yet ready for burial, I really do not know why I exist."
"But those that are married and baptized, doubtless know why they exist," said the prince, smiling. "Tell me something of this happy class. Whose, for example, is the latest marriage?"
"The latest marriage?" said Pollnitz, hesitating--"before answering, I must allow myself to ask after the condition of your heart. Does it still suffer?"
"No," cried the prince, "it does not suffer; it received a heavy shower of cold water, and was cured instantly."
"I rejoice to hear it, your highness, and congratulate you on your recovery, for truly there is no more painful disease than a suffering heart."
"I told you that I had recovered fully; tell me, therefore, your news without hesitation. You spoke of a marriage. Who were the happy lovers?"
"Your highness, Madame von Kleist has married," murmured Pollnitz.
The prince received this blow without betraying the slightest emotion.
"When did the marriage take place?" he asked, with perfect composure.
"Yesterday; and I assure your highness that I never saw a happier or more brilliant bride. Love has transformed her into a blushing, timid maiden."
Prince Henry pressed his hand upon his heart with a quick, unconscious movement.
"I can well imagine that she was beautiful," said he, controlling his voice with a great effort. "Madame von Kleist is happy, and happiness always beautifies. And the bridegroom, M. du Trouffle, was he also handsome and happy?"
"Your highness knows the name of the bride-groom," said Pollnitz, appearing astonished.
"Yes, Madame von Kleist told me herself when she announced her approaching marriage. But I am not acquainted with Du Trouffle--is he handsome?"
"Handsome and amiable, your highness, and besides, a very good officer.
The king gave him, as a wedding present, a major's commission."
"Then the beautiful Louise is now Mrs Major du Trouffle," said the prince, with a troubled smile. "Were you present at the wedding?"
"Yes, in the name of the king."
"Did she speak the decisive Yes, the vow of faith and obedience, with earnestness and confidence? Did she not blush, or droop her eyelids in doing so?"
"Oh, no; she smiled as if entranced, and raised her eyes to heaven, as if praying for God's blessing upon her vows."
"One thing more," said the prince, fixing his large, gray eyes with a searching expression upon Pollnitz--"what is said of me? Am I regarded as a rejected lover, or as a faithless one; for doubtless all Berlin knows of my love for this lady, you having been our confidant."
"Oh, my prince, that is a hard insinuation," said Pollnitz, sadly.
"Your highness cannot really believe that--"
"No protestations, I pray you," interrupted the prince, "I believe I know you thoroughly, but I am not angry with you nor do I reproach you: you are a courtier, and one of the best and rarest type; you have intellect and knowledge, much experience and savoir vivre; I could desire no better company than yourself; but for one moment cast aside your character as a courtier, and tell me the truth: what does the world say of this marriage in regard to me?"
"Your highness desires me to tell you the truth?"
"Yes, I do."
"Now the important moment has come," thought Pollnitz. "Now, if I am adroit, I believe I can obtain the payment of my debts."
"Well, then, your highness," said Pollnitz, in answer to the prince, "I will tell you the truth, even should I incur your displeasure. I fear, my prince, you are regarded as a rejected lover, and Madame du Trouffle has succeeded in throwing a holy lustre around her beautiful brow. It is said that she refused your dishonorable proposals, and preferred being the virtuous wife of a major, to becoming the mistress of a prince."
"Go on," said the prince, hastily, as Pollnitz ceased, and looked searchingly at him. "What do they say of me?"