I was not displeased that she used this pretext to conceal the true cause of her grief, and I concluded she had not suspected me of being the author of her lover’s death.  “Madam,” said I, “so far from blaming, I assure you I heartily commiserate your sorrow.  I should feel surprise if you were insensible to such heavy calamities:  weep on; your tears are so many proofs of your tenderness; but I hope that time and reflection will moderate your grief.”

She retired into her apartment, where, giving herself wholly up to sorrow, she spent a whole year in mourning and lamentation.  At the end of that period, she begged permission to erect a burying place for herself, within the bounds of the palace, where she would continue, she told me, to the end of her days:  I consented, and she built a stately edifice, crowned by a cupola, which may be seen from hence, and called it the Palace of Tears.  When it was finished, she caused her lover to be conveyed thither, from the place to which she had caused him to be carried the night I wounded him:  she had hitherto prevented his dying, by potions which she had administered to him; and she continued to convey them to him herself every day after he came to the Palace of Tears.

Yet, with all her enchantments, she could not cure him; he was not only unable to walk or support himself, but had also lost the use of his speech, and exhibited no sign of life except in his looks.  Though the queen had no other consolation but to see him, and to say to him all that her senseless passion could inspire, yet every day she made him two long visits.  I was well apprised of this, but pretended ignorance.

One day my curiosity induced me to go to the Palace of Tears, to observe how the princess employed herself, and from a place where she could not see me, I heard her thus address her lover:  “I am afflicted to the highest degree to behold you in this condition; I am as sensible as yourself of the tormenting pain you endure; but, dear soul, I am continually speaking to you, and you do not answer me:  how long will you remain silent?  Speak only one word:  alas! the sweetest moments of my life are these I spend here in partaking of your grief.  I cannot live at a distance from you, and would prefer the pleasure of having you always before me, to the empire of the universe.”

At these words, which were several times interrupted by her sighs and sobs, I lost all patience:  and discovering myself, came up to her, and said, “Madam, you have wept enough, it is time to give over this sorrow, which dishonours both; you have too much forgotten what you owe to me and to yourself.”  “Sire,” said she, “if you have any kindness or compassion for me left, I beseech you to put no restraint upon me; allow me to indulge my grief, which it is impossible for time to assuage.”

When I perceived that my remonstrance, instead of restoring her to a sense of duty, served only to increase her anguish, I gave over and retired.  She continued every day to visit her lover, and for two whole years abandoned herself to grief and despair.