“I thank you, Adolphus, for this kind and friendly wish,” said Count Adam, giving his hand to his son.  “It proves to me that you love your old father, and that delights me.  Truly, man is a wonderful creature, not being able to live for himself alone, but always longing for some sympathetic heart on which to lean.  I have at last made the discovery that I have a heart.”

“And I,” said Count Adolphus, laughing—­“I have just discovered that I no longer have a heart.”

“Or rather, you are sick at heart, are you not?” inquired his father quickly.  “My son, you have avoided me of late—­you have turned from me, you no longer confide in me.”

“I have nothing to confide, most revered sir,” replied Count Adolphus, smiling.  “I lead a merry, harmless life, and care for nothing.”

“For nothing?” repeated the count.  “Not even for the Princess Charlotte Louise?”

Count Adolphus slightly shuddered, and his cheeks paled a little, but he carelessly shook his head, and continued to smile.

“My son,” continued his father, “I ask you to-day, as I did two years ago, on what terms are you with the Princess Charlotte Louise?  During all this time you have invariably eluded my efforts to converse on the subject.  I indulged you, for I know my prudent, cautious son, and waited for him to give me his confidence voluntarily.  Hitherto, however, I have but waited in vain, so that I am compelled to take the initiative, and sue for your confidence.  Give it to me, Adolphus, tell me whether you love the Princess Charlotte Louise.”

“Wherefore?” asked Count Adolphus.  “How would it profit you?”

“Me?  Not at all, but perhaps it may profit you to tell me the truth.  The lofty hopes we once indulged in have come to naught, destiny has not willed their fruition.  We have been disappointed in our hope of seeing George William’s daughter become his heiress, and exalt her husband into an Elector of Brandenburg.  Frederick William is Elector, he has entered upon his father’s estates to their full extent.  But the Princess Charlotte Louise is still unmarried, and has remained so because she loves you and is waiting for you.”

“She has made me wait,” cried the young count, with a sudden outburst of passion.  “She kept me standing and waiting two hours before a locked door, and never, while I live, never, shall I forget the shame, the torture, and degradation of those two hours of vain expectation.  Oh, father, see what power you have over me!  I swore then that no human being should ever hear of the insult put upon me by that haughty Prince’s daughter, and yet I am confessing it to you now.  Pity me not, say nothing, nothing at all, for each word but aggravates my pain and makes my heart swell with indignation and grief.  Oh, I loved her, trusted her, I dreamed of a proud and brilliant future, which I should owe to her!  And she played her part in such masterly style, her countenance wearing a look of such innocence and candor!