“Do you mean to defy me, madame?” muttered Moritz, gnashing his teeth. “You perhaps count upon my magnanimity to keep silent, and not disclose the secrets of the past to this aristocratic assembly. I stand here as its accusing spirit, and condemn you as a shameless perjurer.--I will ask you who are here rendering homage to this woman, if you know who she is, and of what she has been guilty? As a young girl she was as sweet and innocent as an angel, and seemed more like a divine revelation. To think of her, inspired and elevated one’s thoughts, and heaven was mirrored in her eyes. She was poor, and yet so infinitely rich, that if a king had laid all his treasures at her feet, as the gift of his love, he would receive more than he gave, for in her heart reposed the wealth of the whole human race. Oh! I could weep tears of blood in reflecting upon what she was, and what she has become. Smile and mock, ladies and gentlemen; my brain is crazed, and I weep for my lost angel.” Moritz dashed his hands to his face, and stood swaying backward and forward, sobbing. Sighs and regrets were heard in the room. The ladies pressed their handkerchiefs to their eyes; others regarded with lively sympathy the handsome young man, who deeply interested them, and gazed reproachfully at the young baroness, expecting her to be crushed with these reproaches and tears, but who, on the contrary, stood with proud composure, her face beaming with joy, gazing at Moritz. “It is past--my last tear is shed, and my last wail has been uttered,” cried Philip, uncovering his face. “My angel has changed into a despicable woman. I loved her as the wretched, disconsolate being adores the one who reveals paradise to him; and she fooled me into the belief that she loved me. We exchanged vows of eternal constancy and affection, and promised each other to bear joyfully every ill in life, and never separate until death. I should have doubted myself, rather than she who stood above me, like a divine revelation. I wished to win her by toil and industry, by my intellect, and the fame by which I could render my name illustrious. It was, indeed, nothing in the eyes of her grasping parents; they repulsed me with scorn and pride, but Marie encouraged me to perfect confidence in her affection. Whilst I wandered on foot to Silesia, like a poor pilgrim toward happiness, to humble myself before the king, to beg and combat for my angel, there came temptation, sin, and vulgarity, in the form of this pale, cowed-down man, who stands beside my betrothed gasping with rage. The temptation of riches changed my angel into a demon, a miserable woman bartered for gold! She betrayed her love, yielding it up for filthy lucre, crushing her nobler nature in the dust, and driving over it, as did Tullia the dead body of her father. She sold herself for riches, before which you all kneel, as if worshipping the golden calf! After selling her soul to a man whom she