He kissed once more her lips and her dark, perfumed hair, then hastened with rapid step across the apartment, hurriedly opened the window, lowered the rope ladder, and swung himself up on the windowsill.”

“Farewell, dearest, farewell!  To-morrow night we shall meet again!” he whispered, kissing the tips of his fingers to her.  Then he seized the rope ladder with both hands, and ere the Princess, who had hastened toward him, had yet found time to assist him and offer her hand to aid him in descending, his slight, elastic figure had disappeared beneath the dark window frame.

Ludovicka leaned out of the window, and with all the strength of her delicate little hands held firm the rope ladder, which swayed backward and forward and sighed and groaned beneath its burden.  All at once the rope ladder stood still, and like spirit greetings were wafted up to her the words, “Farewell! farewell!”

“He is gone,” murmured Ludovicka, retreating from the window—­“he is gone!  But to-morrow, to-morrow night, I shall have him again.  To-morrow night I shall be his wife.  O Sir Count d’Entragues! you shall be forced to acknowledge that the Electoral Prince loves me, and that his declaration of love is synonymous with an offer of marriage!  I think I have managed everything exactly as it was marked out on the paper.  Let us look again.”

She again drew forth the paper from the casket on her writing table, and read it through attentively.  “Yes,” she murmured as she read, “all in order.  Offer of marriage elicited.  Alarmed by the threat that they will unite me to the Prince of Hesse.  Not betray who the friends are who will render me their aid.  Secret marriage arranged.  Time presses, To-morrow night.  All is in order.  The Media Nocte, too, confessed.  Only one thing is still wanting.  I only omitted telling him that our rendezvous must be in the Media Nocte, and that we make our escape from there.  Well, never mind, I can tell him to-morrow, and about ten o’clock the orange-colored ribbon may flutter from my window, and Count d’Entragues will be so rejoiced!  Oh, to-morrow, to-morrow I shall be my handsome Electoral Prince’s wife!”

She stretched forth her arms, as if she would embrace, although he was invisible, the handsome, beloved youth, whose kisses yet burned upon her lips.  Her flaming eyes wandered over the apartment, as if she still hoped to find there his fine and slender shape.  Now, not finding him, she sighed heavily and fixed her eyes upon the great portrait, which hung upon the wall above the divan.  It was the half-length likeness of a woman, a queen, as was shown by the diadem of pearls surmounting her high, narrow forehead, and behind which a crown could be discerned.  A rare picture it was, possessed of magical attractions.  The large blue eyes, so glowing and tender, the soft, rounded cheeks, so transparently fair, the full, pouting lips, so speaking—­all seemed to promise joy; and yet in the whole expression of the face there was so much melancholy and so much pain!  Princess Ludovicka walked softly to the portrait, and lifted up to it her folded hands.