‘But my love _shall be made honourable_, Mercia, I will get a divorce, and thou shalt fill the Empress’ place. Aye, and fill it far away better than she has ever done! I hate her—curse her!’ Then followed a grating noise as if the Emperor were grinding his teeth in fury at the thought of his marriage fetters. A painful feeling spread itself through the Court; the Empress became the cynosure of all eyes: her face turned deathly white; a minute later she had fainted, and was carried away from the scene that jealousy had prompted her to witness. ‘But I cannot rob another woman of her husband: I would not defraud the meanest in thy realms, still less thine Empire’s highest lady!’ uttered the machine in pure clear tones. A suppressed murmur of applause greeted this avowal, but the machine went on heedless of interruption. ‘It is not robbery, Mercia, she doth not own my heart, and never did! I was cozened into the marriage by my cousin Osbert—curse him, for a meddling fool!’ ‘He did it, doubtless, for the best. The whole of thy Cabinet approved, so did the nation. It is a new thing for me to learn that our Emperor lives unhappily with his spouse—I cannot understand it.’ ‘She’s trying to reason him out of his folly,’ remarked Louis, of France, ‘good little girl!’ ‘I never felt the chains gall till now, Mercia,’ the machine confessed with relentless veracity. ‘A quiet indifference kept me content until thy beauty set my heart a-beating with a new joy. I knew not love till mine eyes dwelt upon thy loveliness, and mine ears listened to the words that flowed from thy lips like a sweet rippling fountain; whose waters gave forth a pure, clear, life-giving stream. ‘Yes, I have drunk therein, and am filled with new emotions—new joys—new hopes—new life!’ The phonograph here made a pause, when it recommenced with a sobbing sound. ‘Now is my beauty an evil thing, and a curse to me!’ cried Mercia’s voice, in soft, pathetic sweetness. ‘Would I had never been born, or that Nature had shaped me uncomely, for then this misfortune could not have overtaken me! Two men desire me, and I may not have either. I must live in a world filled like a garden with flowers—flowers and blossoms of love. Yet, I may not touch them; their fragrance is not for me; not one may I wear on my breast! ‘Yet, they nod and beckon me to pluck them. They offer me the incense of their being, and would fain spend their full fragrance upon me; for their desire is to nestle on my bosom, and give me the joy of their beauty and love.’ As the instrument gave utterance to this sweet rhapsody, delivered in a low, clear, plaintive voice, that fell like music on the ear of the enraptured auditory, who listened breathlessly to every word that fell from her lips, as it were; for in imagination they saw her with bowed head, and clasped hands breathing the poetry of that moment of divine exaltation.