"Ah, there she stands. Look well, my friend;
look at her well. This is probably the last night you will see her,
save as my wife."
The sight of that dear face took the nerves from me, and left me
trembling. Even in the momentary glance I detected a melancholy cast
to her features. She was surrounded by several men, who wore various
decorations.
"Your Highness," said the Prince, mockery predominating his tones,
"permit me to present to you an old friend."
Was it because her soul instinctively became conscious of my presence
and nerved her for the ordeal, that she turned and smiled on me? The
Prince appeared for a moment crestfallen. Perhaps the scene lacked a
denouement. Oh, I was sure that implacable hate burned under that
smile of his, just as I knew that beneath the rise and fall of
Gretchen's bosom the steady fire of immutable love burned, burned as it
burned in my own heart. It was a defeat for the Prince, a triumph for
Gretchen and me. The greeting took but a moment. I stepped back,
strong and hopeful. She loved me. I knew that her heart was singing
the same joyous song as my own.
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