Prince Berthold arrives unprepared for any show of resistance; and is a little startled to find that Colombe defies him, and that one of her courtiers (not choosing to be outdone by Valence) has the courage to tell him so; but he treats the Duchess and her adviser with all the courtesy of a man whose right is secure; and Valence, to whom he entrusts his credentials, is soon convinced that it is so.  But he has a far-sighted ambition which keeps him alive to all possible risks:  and it occurs to him as wiser to secure the little sovereignty by marrying its heiress than by dispossessing her.  He desires Valence to convey to the young Duchess the offer of his hand.  The offer is worth considering, since as he asserts, it may mean the Empire:  to which the Duchy is, in his case, but a necessary stepping-stone; and Valence, who has loved Colombe since his first glimpse of her at Cleves, a year ago; who has begun to hope that his affection is returned; and who knows that the Prince’s message is not only a test of her higher nature, but a snare to it, feels nevertheless bound to leave her choice free.  This choice lies clearly between love and power; for Berthold parades a cynicism half affected, half real; and on being questioned as to his feeling for the lady, has dismissed the question as irrelevant.

Valence is, throughout the play, an advocate in the best sense of the word.  As he has pleaded the wrongs of an oppressed people, he sets forth the happiness of a successful prince—­the happiness which the young Duchess is invited to share; and he departs from all the conventionalities of fiction, by showing her the true poetry, not the artificial splendours, of worldly success.  Colombe is almost as grateful as the young Prince could desire, for she assumes that he has fallen in love with her, whether he says so or not; and here, too, Valence must speak the truth.  “The Prince does not love her.”  “How does he know this?” “He knows it by the insight of one who does love.”  Astonished, vaguely pained, Colombe questions him as to the object of his attachment, and, in probably real ignorance of who it can be, draws him on to a confession.  For a moment she is disenchanted.  “So much unselfish devotion to turn out merely love!  She will at all events see Valence’s rival.”

In the last act she discusses the Prince’s proposal with himself.  He frankly rests it on its advantages for both.  He has much to say in favour of such an understanding, and reminds his listener as she questions and temporizes, that if he gives no heart he also asks none.  The courtiers now see their opportunity.  They inform the Prince that by her late father’s will the Duchess forfeits her rights in the event of marrying a subject.  They point to such a marriage as a natural result of the loving service which Valence has this day rendered to her, and the love which is its only fitting reward.  And Colombe, listening to the just if treacherous praises of this man, feels no longer “sure” that she does “not love him.”  Valence is summoned; requested to assert his claim or to deny it; given to understand that the lady’s interests demand the latter course.  The manly dignity and exalted tenderness with which he resigns her convert, as it seems, the doubt into certainty; and Colombe takes him on this her birthday at the sacrifice of “Juliers and the world.”