“I will, Barbarina!”

“Well, then, I demand no giant task, no herculean labor; there is no rival whom you must murder!  I demand only that you shall make your love for me known to the whole world.  Give eclat to this passion!  I demand that with head erect, and clear untroubled eye, you shall give the world a proof of this love!  I will not that this love you declare to me so passionately shall be hidden under a veil of mystery and silence.  I demand that you have the courage to let the sun in the heavens and the eyes of men look down into your heart and read your secret, and that no quiver of the eyelids, no feeling of confusion shall shadow your countenance.  I will that to-morrow all Berlin shall know and believe that the young Councillor Cocceji, the son of the minister, the favorite of the king, loves the Barbarina ardently, and that she returns his passion.  Berlin must know that this is no cold, northern, German, phlegmatic liking, which chills the blood in the veins and freezes the heart, but a full, ardent, glowing passion, animating every fibre of our being—­an Italian love, a love of sunshine, and of storm, and of tempest.”

Barbarina was wholly irresistible; her bearing was proud, her eyes sparkled, her face beamed with energy and enthusiasm.  A less passionate nature than that of Cocceji would have been kindled by her ardor, would have been carried away by her energy.

The fiery young Cocceji threw himself at her feet.  “Command me! my name, my life, my hand, are yours; only love me, Barbarina, and I will be proud to declare how much I love you; to say to the whole world this is my bride, and I am honored and happy that she has deigned to accept my hand!”

“Of this another time,” said Barbarina, smiling; “first prove to the world that you love me.  This evening in the theatre give some public evidence, give the Berliners something to talk about:  then—­then—­” said she, softly, “the rest will come in time.”

CHAPTER XVI.

The disturbance in the theatre.

Duke Algarotti and General Rothenberg returned to the castle much comforted by their interview with Barbarina.

“The Barbarina repents, and is ready to take the first step toward reconciliation,” said Rothenberg; “I see the end; I will go at once and order my cook to prepare a splendid supper for the evening.”

“Do not be hasty,” said Algarotti, shaking his head; “you may give your cook unnecessary trouble, and the rich feast might be cold before the arrival of the king.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I believe that for a summer cloud or an April shower the king would not withdraw himself to solitude and silence.  It is no passing mood, but a life question which agitates him.”

“The door has not been opened to-day; Fredersdorf has repeatedly begged for admittance.”