“Alas! does your majesty still remember that?” said Barbarina, in a tone of tender reproof.

“You have taken care that I shall not forget it.  You once told me that from hatred to love was but a small step.  If you have truly advanced so far, how can I be assured but you will one day step backward?”

“How can you be assured?” said she, pointing a rosy finger with indescribable grace at the king.  “Ah. sire! your divine beauty, your eyes, which have borrowed lightning from Jove and glory from the sun—­your brow, where majesty and wisdom sit enthroned, and that youthful and enchanting smile which illuminates the whole—­all these make assurance doubly sure!  I will not allude to your throne, and its pomp and power!  What is it to me that you are a king?  For me you are a man, a hero, a god.  Had I met you as a shepherd in the fields, I should have said, ‘There is a god in disguise!’ The fable is verified, and ‘Apollo is before me!’ Apollo, I adore, I worship you! let one ray from your heavenly eyes fall upon my face!” She knelt before him, folding her hands, extended them pleadingly toward the king, and looked upon him with a ravishing smile.

The king raised her, and pressed her—­in his arms, then took her small head in his hands, and turning it backward, gazed searchingly in her face.

“Oh!  Barbarina,” said he, sadly, “to-day you are an angel, why were you a demon yesterday?  Why did you martyr and torture me with your childish moods and passionate temper?  Why is your heart, which can be so soft and warm, sometimes cold as an iceberg and wholly pitiless?  Child! child! do you not know I have been wounded by many griefs, and that every rough word and every angry glance is like a poisoned dagger to my soul?  I had looked forward with such delight to our meeting yesterday at Rothenberg’s!  I expected so much happiness, and I had earned it by a diligent and weary day’s work.  Alas! you spoiled all by your frowning brow and sullen silence.  It was your fault that T returned home sad and heartless.  I could not sleep, but passed the night in trying to find out the cause of your melancholy.  This morning I could not work, and have robbed my kingdom and my people of the hours which properly belong to them; weak and powerless, I have been swayed wholly by gloom and discontent.  What was it, Barbarina, which veiled your clear brow with frowns, and made your sweet voice so harsh and stern?”

“What was it?” said Barbarina, sadly; and resting on the arm of the king, she leaned her head back and looked up at him with half-closed eyes.  “It was ambition which tortured me.  But I did wrong to conceal any thing from you.  I should, without sullen or angry looks, have made known the cause of my despair.  I should have felt that I had only to breathe my request, and that the noble and magnanimous heart of my king would understand me.  I should have known that the man who had won laurels in the broad fields of science and on the bloody battle-field, would appreciate this thirst for renown; this glowing, burning hate toward those who cross our paths and wish to share our fame!”