'Prince, you are the image of your father as I knew him twenty years ago. You bring my youth back to me.' She laid her hand upon his shoulder and drew him towards her. She was very beautiful for all her forty-five years, her presence was intoxication. 'Friedrich, Friedrich, you could revenge so much--so much neglect, if you were my friend.' Her lips were very near to his, her breath was on his cheek. Like most super-sensitive beings, he was vividly passionate; and she knew it, and this was her last card: to make him love her, aid her to stay at Favorite, then, when Eberhard Ludwig returned, surely jealousy would recall love. It was a dangerous game enough, but it was her last resource. 'Little Friedrich, who makes me feel young again,' she murmured. Now her lips are on his--and the room swings round him--while the scent of the fading lilacs in the garden is wafted in with delicious, heavy, unwholesome sweetness. And she herself, caught by an eddy of her feigned passion, is swept into a wave of sensual recollection. She is in the Rothenwald again on a spring morning--overhead a bird sings a rhapsody--and she---- With a cry the Prince sprang away from her. 'Madame! O Madame! you tempt me from my duty; you must go from here. Indeed, I cannot help you, but I will not let the guards disturb you, till to-morrow. I pray you, Madame, go this day.' 'Never; you do not know me! I will never go. Use force if you will--but I stay at Ludwigsburg.' The Erbprinz turned away sorrowfully. 'Then I cannot help you.' He took her hand and raised it to his lips. 'Farewell, Madame,' he whispered. Did his lips linger on her hand a little longer than custom dictated? She thought so, and smiled to herself as Prince Friedrich left her. Hardly had the Erbprinz departed when she heard the sound of approaching wheels in the avenue. 'I am receiving many visitors to-day,' she thought bitterly. To her surprise Monseigneur de Zollern was announced. He greeted the Landhofmeisterin warmly, though gravely, and immediately commenced questioning her on her position. She told him the details of the foregoing weeks. Zollern listened attentively, with his hands crossed as usual over the porcelain handle of his stick. He had grown terribly old in spite of his straight and dapper figure, and his face was like ancient parchment; only the bright, restless eyes seemed eagerly alive. He told the Landhofmeisterin that the news of her misfortune had reached him, and that he had come to counsel her immediate retreat. He argued with her gently, but she was obdurate; go she would not. Then the old man begged her to depart; he prayed her, by Madame de Ruth's memory, to be reasonable.