Barbarina shook her head sadly.  “I have lost him.  The eagle has burst the weak bonds with which I had bound his wings; now he is free, he will again unfold them, and rise up conquering and to conquer in the blue vaults of heaven.  In the rapturous enjoyment of liberty he will forget how happy he was in captivity.  No, no; I have lost him forever!”

She clasped her hands over her face, and wept bitterly.  Then, as if roused to extremity by some agonizing thought, she sprang from her seat; her eyes were flashing, her cheeks crimson.

“Oh, to think that he abandoned me; that I was true to him; that a man lives who deserted Barbarina!  That is a shame, a humiliation, of which I will die—­yes, surely die!”

“But this man was, at least, a king,” said her sister, in hesitating tones.

Barbarina shook her head fiercely, and her rich black hair fell about her face in wild disorder.

“What is it to me that he is a king?  His sceptre is not so powerful as that of Barbarina.  My realm extends over the universe, wherever men have eyes to see and hearts to feel emotion.  That this man is a king does not lessen my shame, or make my degradation less bitter.  Barbarina is deserted, forsaken, spurned, and yet lives.  She is not crushed and ground to death by this dishonor.  But, as I live, I will take vengeance, vengeance for this monstrous wrong—­this murder of my heart!”

So, in the midst of wild prayers, and tears, and oaths of vengeance, the day declined; long after, Barbarina yielded to the tender entreaties of Marietta, and stretched herself upon her couch.  She buried her head in the pillows, and during the weary hours of the night she wept bitterly.

With pale cheeks and weary eyes she rose on the following morning.  She was still profoundly sad, but no longer hopeless.  Her vanity, her rare beauty, in whose magic power she still believed, whispered golden words of comfort, of encouragement; she was now convinced that the king could not give her up.  “He spurned me yesterday, to-day he will implore me to forgive him.”  She was not surprised when her servant announced Duke Algarotti and General Rothenberg.

“Look you,” said she, turning to her sister, “you see my heart judged rightly.  The king sends his two most confidential friends to conduct me to him.  Oh, my God, grant that this poor heart, which has borne such agony, may not now break from excess of happiness!  I shall see him again, and his beautiful, loving eyes will melt out of my heart even the remembrance of the terrible glance with which he looked upon me yesterday.  Farewell, sister; farewell—­I go to the king.”

“But not so; not in this negligee; not with this hair in wild disorder,” said Marietta, holding her back.

“Yes, even as I am,” said Barbarina.  “For his sake I have torn my hair; for his sake my eyes are red; my sad, pale face speaks eloquently of my despair, and will awaken his repentance.”