“It is true, so I did,” murmured the Prince.  “I thought you had reference to a private person, to one of those rich mynheers whom I have met at your house.  I told you so, Princess, and you did not contradict me.  You left me under the impression that it was a merchant of Holland who was offering his help and protection.  From a private citizen I could have accepted aid, for that pledged the man, not the Prince.  But from France I can accept no favors, for by such would be pledged and bound the Prince, the future ruler of his land, so that he could not act freely according to his judgment and the requirements of the case, but be subjected to restraint.  Sir Count d’Entragues, I shall not sign.”

The Princess uttered a shriek and threw both her arms, round him.  “If you are serious in that, beloved, then are we lost, for who will help us if France will not?”

“God and ourselves, Ludovicka!”

“God listens not to our entreaties, and we are too weak to help ourselves.  Oh, my beloved, prove now that you love me—­that your vows are true.  I am lost to you and you to me if we do not escape to-night—­lost if we accept not France’s aid.  Look, here is the sheet of paper; our whole future lies on it.  I offer it to you, beloved, and with it my life, my love, my happiness.  Will you scorn me?”

She held out to him both her trembling hands, and looked at him with glances of entreaty.  He returned the look, and a deadly paleness overspread his face.  He took the sheet of paper from her hands—­she opened her mouth for a cry of joy—­then a shrill, rasping sound—­he had torn the paper in two, and both pieces fell slowly to the ground.

“That is my answer, so help me God!  I can do no otherwise.”

A cry sounded from Ludovicka’s lips, but it was a cry of horror.  She reeled back, as if a fearful blow had struck her, and stared at the Prince with wide-open eyes.

“You reject me with disdain?” she asked in a toneless voice.  “You will not flee with me?”

He rushed toward her, cast himself upon his knees before her, kissing her dress and hands with passionate ardor.

“Forgive me, Ludovicka, forgive me!  I can not act differently.  I can not be a traitor to my country, to my father, to Germany.  I can not listen to my heart, with regard to my future, for my future belongs to my people, my native land, not to myself alone.  Go home, beloved; be steadfast and courageous, as I shall be, and then we shall conquer destiny itself and win victory for our love.”

“Stand up, Electoral Prince of Brandenburg!” she cried imperiously, and with angry glance.  “Now answer me, will you accept the help of France, and flee with me?”

He turned away from her with a deep sigh.  “No, I shall not accept the help of France.”

“Count d’Entragues,” said the Princess, with shrill, quivering voice, “you are a gentleman; I place myself under your protection.  You will immediately conduct me to Doornward.”