As Felicitas gazed upon the beautiful woman standing before him in an attitude of grief and despair, her head bowed down, her arms outstretched, showing the contour of her perfect form, he felt as one in a dream—a ravishing dream that inspired every sense with a deliciousness he had never before experienced. On his enraptured ears her words fell like the music of a poem, for the full, rich, melodious _timbre_ of her voice lent to them a peculiar charm: their pathos melted him; their sweetness enchained him. Seized anew with the intoxication of his passion he sank on his knees before her; his whole frame quivered with emotion, while the varying tones of his voice testified how greatly the torrent of his passion swept through his soul. ‘Mercia, Mercia, give me thy love!’ he cried impetuously; ‘take me, my beloved, spurn me no longer, for without thee I am as one dead! As a world without sun, having no life, nor warmth, I shall go on my way darkened for ever. Take me into the sunshine of thy love; give me new life, dearest. Resuscitate and refresh me with the joy of thy beauty; and let us drink of the wine of love’s pleasures for ever. Then shall we two learn how good it is to love; how sweet it is to be together; how delightful the blending of two souls made satisfied with their own companionship.’ As one in a dream Mercia listened to his passionate outpourings; she drank in his words as gratefully as the parched earth a summer’s shower; but her mind was with Geometrus. In imagination she was with him, listening to the pent-up eloquence that his soft dark eyes daily expressed. ‘It is Geometrus who speaks!’ she murmured absently; ‘Geometrus has opened his heart to me at last!’ ‘Geometrus!’ shouted the Emperor, almost out of his head with rage and jealousy; ‘it is _not_ Geometrus—it is I, Felicitas—Felicitas thine Emperor who abjectly offers thee his love, and his crown, and sues thee, Mercia—his subject—his servant!’ Then Mercia, awakening from her love-dream began to realise her true position. For an instant she paused, and passed her hand across her brow, as if to recover her senses; then she said in a deliberate and dignified voice— ‘Felicitas, the Emperor hath no crown to offer his subject, Mercia, for it sits already on the brow of his royal spouse; neither has he love to offer his servant, Mercia, for it is sworn to his Empress for ever. It is an insult to me, Mercia, thine offer of illicit love, and I refuse to longer remain in thy service.’ Upon hearing these words the heat of his temper suddenly cooled; he saw he had not only ruined his cause with the lady, but he was bringing upon himself public dishonour; for the reason of the resignation of their gifted and enthusiastic astronomer would be demanded by both ministers and nation alike. As she turned to leave the apartment, for she disdained having further converse with him, he forcibly caught her by the dress, with a view of detaining her.