Can
your highness blame me for this?"
The prince listened with breathless attention; gradually his
countenance changed, the color faded from his cheeks, the light from
his eyes; a smile was still on his lips, but it was cold and
mocking; his eyes burned with anger and contempt.
"No, madame," he said, with calm, proud indifference, "I do not
blame you--I praise, I congratulate you. Captain du Trouffle is a
most fortunate man--he will possess a most beautiful wife. When will
this happy ceremony be performed?"
Madame von Kleist was unable to reply. She gazed with wild terror
into his cold, iron face--she listened with horror to that voice,
whose mild, soft tone had become suddenly so harsh, so stern.
The prince repeated his question, and his tone was harder and more
imperious.
"The day is not fixed," said Louise; "we must first obtain the
king's consent to our marriage."
"I shall take care it does not fail you," said the prince, quietly.
"I will strengthen your petition to the king. Now, madame, you must
forgive me for leaving you. Many greetings to your betrothed--I
shall be introduced to him to-morrow at the parade.
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