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CHAPTER XVI.

RETRIBUTION.

The appointed hour had arrived, and in the full splendor of his rich uniform, decorated with orders, and glittering with diamonds bestowed upon him by the favor of two empresses, Prince Feodor von Stratimojeff entered Gotzkowsky’s house.  With the proud step of victory he ascended the stairs that led to the apartments of his bride.  The goal was at last reached.  The beautiful, lovely, and wealthy maiden was finally to become his wife.  He could present her at the court of St. Petersburg, and with her beauty, her virtue, and his happiness revenge himself on the fickle empress.  These were his thoughts as he opened the door and entered Elise’s room.  There she stood in her white bridal attire, as delicate, as slender, and as graceful as a lily to the sight.  There stood also her father, and the friend of her youth, Bertram.  The witnesses to the ceremony were present, and nothing more was necessary but to lead her to the altar.  Elise had requested of her father that she herself should see the prince, and give him his dismissal.  She had also requested that Bertram should be present.  She wished to show him that her heart had, at once and forever, been healed of its foolish and unholy love, and that she could face the prince without trembling or hesitation.  This was an offering which she wished to bring to the honor of her future husband and her own pride; and she would have despised herself if a motion of her eyebrow or a sigh from her breast had betrayed the sadness which, against her will, she felt in her heart.  She looked, therefore, with a cold and calm eye on the prince as he entered, and for the first time he seemed no longer the handsome man, the being endowed with numberless fascinations, of former days.  She read only in his flaccid features the sad history of the past.  The charm was broken which had held her eyes captive.  Her vision was clear again, and she shuddered before this wild, demoniacal beauty which she had once adored as God’s image in man.  As she looked at him, she felt as if she could hate him, because she had loved him; because she had spent her first youth, her first love, her first happiness, on him; because he had defrauded her of the peace and innocence of her heart; and because she no longer had even the right of weeping for her lost love, but was forced to turn away from it with blushes of shame.

Feodor approached with an air of happy triumph and satisfaction, and, bowing low to her father, said, with a most exquisite smile, “I have come to seek my bride—­to request Elise’s hand of her father.”

With eyes beaming with pleasure he offered Elise his hand, but hers remained calm and cold, and her voice did not tremble or falter as she said:  “I am a bride, but not yours, Prince Stratimojeff;” and extending her hand to Bertram, she continued:  “This is my husband!  To-day, for the third time, he has saved me—­saved me from you!”