"The king was suffering severely yesterday from the wounds which the sharp thorns of the red rose had inflicted," said Rothenberg. "And did he not cruelly revenge himself?" cried Barbarina. "He left me for long hours kneeling at his door, wringing my hands, and pleading for pity and pardon, and he showed no mercy. But that is past, forgotten, forgiven. My wounds have bled and they have healed, and now health and happiness will return to my poor martyred heart. Say to my king that I am humble. I pray for happiness, not as my right, but as a royal gift which, kneeling and with uplifted hands, I will receive, oh, how gratefully! But no, no, you shall not tell this to the king--I will confess all myself to his majesty. Come, come, the king awaits us--let us hasten to him!" "We were only commanded to inquire after the health of the signora," said Algarotti, coolly. "And as you have assured us that you have passed the night in tears and repentance, this confession may perhaps ameliorate his majesty's sufferings," said Rothenberg. Barbarina looked amazed from one to the other. Suddenly her cheeks became crimson, and her eyes flashed with passion. "You did not come to conduct me to the king?" said she, breathlessly. "No, signora, the king did not give us this commission." "Ah! he demands, then, that I shall come voluntarily? Well, then, I will go uncalled. Lead me to his majesty!" "That is a request which I regret I cannot fulfil. The king has sternly commanded us to admit no one." "No one?" "No one, without exception, signora," said Algarotti, bowing profoundly. Barbarina pressed her lips together to restrain a cry of anguish. She pressed her hands upon the table to sustain her sinking form. "You have only come to say that the king will not receive me; that to-day, as yesterday, his doors are closed against me. Well, then, gentlemen, you have fulfilled your duty. Go and say to his majesty I shall respect his wishes--go, sirs!" Barbarina remained proudly erect, and replied to their greeting with a derisive smile. With her hands pressed nervously on the table, she looked after the two cavaliers as they left her saloon, with wide- extended, tearless eyes. But when the door closed upon them, when sure she could not be heard by them, she uttered so wild, so piercing a cry of anguish, that Marietta rushed into the room. Barbarina had sunk, as if struck by lightning, to the floor. "I am dishonored, betrayed, spurned," cried she, madly. "O God! let me not outlive this shame--send death to my relief!" Soon, however, her cries of despair were changed to words of scorn and bitterness. She no longer wished to die--she wished to revenge herself. She rose from her knees, and paced the room hastily, raging, flashing, filled with a burning thirst for vengeance, resolved to cast a veil over her shame, and hide it, at least, from the eyes of the world.