With a kindly smile he drew near to Barbarina.  “Rise,” said he, and the tones of his voice made her heart beat wildly, and brought fresh tears to her eyes.  “You come strangely and unexpectedly, Barbarina, but you come with a beautiful retinue, with a crowd of sweet, fond remembrances—­and I—­of whom men say, ’He has no religion’—­have at least the religion of memory.  I cannot be angry with you, Barbarina; rise, and tell me why you are here.”

He bowed, and took her by the hands and raised her; and now, as she stood near him, lovely as ever, her great eyes glowing with warmth and passion, intoxicating the senses with her odorous beauty, the king felt anguish in his heart which he had no words to express.

They stood silently, side by side, their eyes fixed upon each other, Frederick holding Barbarina’s hand in his; they seemed to be whispering mysterious fairy tales to each other’s hearts.

“I see you, surrounded by smiling, sacred genii,” at last, said Frederick.  “These are the genii of the rosy hours which have been.  Ah, Barbarina, thus attended, your face seems to me as the face of an angel.  Why were you not an angel, Barbarina?  Why were you only a woman—­a passionate woman, who, not satisfied with loving and being loved, wished also to govern; who was not content to be worshipped by the man, but wished to subject the king, whom you thus forced to forget his humanity, to trample upon and torture his own heart in order to remain king?  Oh, Barbarina, why were you this proud, exacting woman, rather than the angel which you now truly are?”

She raised her hands, as if imploring him to be silent.  “I understand all that now, I have thought of it, night and day; I know and I confess that you acted right, sire.  And now I am no longer an imperious woman, but a humiliated one!  In my helplessness, with my pride subdued, I come to you!  I come to you, sire, as one goes to God, weary and heavy laden.  I come to you, as a poor sinner goes into God’s holy temple, to confess his sins; to have his burden lightened; to pray for help that he may subdue his own heart!  Oh, sire, this is a sacred, consecrated hour for me, and what I now say to you, only God and yourself may hear!”

“Speak, Barbarina, and may God hear and answer!”

“Sire, I come for help!”

“Ah, for help!” exclaimed the king, and a mocking expression played upon his lips.  “I had forgotten.  You wish to be called Madame Cocceji?”

“I am called thus, sire,” said she, softly; “but they are about to declare my marriage illegal, and by the power of the law to set it aside.”

“And for this reason you come to me?” said the king.  “You fear for your beautiful title?”

“Ah, sire, you do not, think so pitifully of me as to suppose I care for a title?”

“You married the Councillor Cocceji, then, from love?” said the king.

Barbarina looked at the king steadily.  “No, sire, I did not marry him for love.”