The anniversary was at hand of the exaltation of Raymond to the office of Protector; and it was customary to celebrate this day by a splendid festival.  A variety of feelings urged Perdita to shed double magnificence over the scene; yet, as she arrayed herself for the evening gala, she wondered herself at the pains she took, to render sumptuous the celebration of an event which appeared to her the beginning of her sufferings.  Woe befall the day, she thought, woe, tears, and mourning betide the hour, that gave Raymond another hope than love, another wish than my devotion; and thrice joyful the moment when he shall be restored to me!  God knows, I put my trust in his vows, and believe his asserted faith—­but for that, I would not seek what I am now resolved to attain.  Shall two years more be thus passed, each day adding to our alienation, each act being another stone piled on the barrier which separates us?  No, my Raymond, my only beloved, sole possession of Perdita!  This night, this splendid assembly, these sumptuous apartments, and this adornment of your tearful girl, are all united to celebrate your abdication.  Once for me, you relinquished the prospect of a crown.  That was in days of early love, when I could only hold out the hope, not the assurance of happiness.  Now you have the experience of all that I can give, the heart’s devotion, taintless love, and unhesitating subjection to you.  You must choose between these and your protectorate.  This, proud noble, is your last night!  Perdita has bestowed on it all of magnificent and dazzling that your heart best loves—­but, from these gorgeous rooms, from this princely attendance, from power and elevation, you must return with to-morrow’s sun to our rural abode; for I would not buy an immortality of joy, by the endurance of one more week sister to the last.

Brooding over this plan, resolved when the hour should come, to propose, and insist upon its accomplishment, secure of his consent, the heart of Perdita was lightened, or rather exalted.  Her cheek was flushed by the expectation of struggle; her eyes sparkled with the hope of triumph.  Having cast her fate upon a die, and feeling secure of winning, she, whom I have named as bearing the stamp of queen of nations on her noble brow, now rose superior to humanity, and seemed in calm power, to arrest with her finger, the wheel of destiny.  She had never before looked so supremely lovely.

We, the Arcadian shepherds of the tale, had intended to be present at this festivity, but Perdita wrote to entreat us not to come, or to absent ourselves from Windsor; for she (though she did not reveal her scheme to us) resolved the next morning to return with Raymond to our dear circle, there to renew a course of life in which she had found entire felicity.  Late in the evening she entered the apartments appropriated to the festival.  Raymond had quitted the palace the night before; he had promised to grace the assembly, but he had not yet returned.  Still she felt sure that he would come at last; and the wider the breach might appear at this crisis, the more secure she was of closing it for ever.