The merry music even was not sufficient to dissipate the awkward oppression, and by midnight the guests had taken leave, and Marie stood under the chandelier, pale and rigid, opposite her husband. He had summoned courage to bewail the terrible scene, weeping and mourning over her cruelty and his shame. Marie, with chilling indifference, regarded him without one visible trace of pity. “You realized what you were doing when you imposed the scorn of this marriage upon me,” she said. “I have never deceived you with vain hopes! You have sown dragons’ teeth, and warriors have sprung up to revenge me upon you. Serve yourself of your riches to fight the combatants. See if you can bargain for a quiet conscience as easily as you purchased me! My soul is free though, and it hovers over you as the spirit of revenge.--Beware!” She slowly turned and quitted the room. Her diamonds sparkled and blazed in the myriads of lights. The large mirrors reflected the image of a haughty woman, who swept proudly past like a goddess of revenge! Ebenstreit stood gazing after her. He had a horror of the lonely still room, so gorgeous and brilliantly illuminated--a shudder crept over him, and he sank, weeping bitterly. In the little room, the buried happiness of the past, Marie knelt, with outstretched arms, imploring heaven for mercy. “I thank Thee, Heavenly Father, that I have been permitted to see him again! My sacrifice was not in vain--he lives! He is free, and his mind is clear and bright. I thank Thee that he still loves me. His anger is but love!” CHAPTER XXXVI. THE KING AND THE ROSICRUCIANS. The joy which Bischofswerder said, reigned in heaven and upon earth over the return of the crown prince to the path of virtue, in having forsaken Wilhelmine Enke, was of but short duration. The Invisibles and the pious Rosicrucians soon learned that sagacious and cunning woman defied the spirits and abjured the oaths. Since the night of his communion with the departed, Frederick William had never visited Charlottenburg--never seen the house which contained all that he held most dear; he had returned Wilhelmine’s letters unopened, and had even had the courage to refuse himself to the children, who came to see him. If he had been left to consult his own heart, he would not probably have had sufficient resolution to have done this; Bischofswerder and Woellner never left him for a moment, as they said the Invisible Fathers had commanded them to tarry with the much-loved brother in these first days of trial and temptation, and to elevate and gladden him with edifying conversations and scientific investigations. The prayers and exhortations were the duty of Woellner, who, besides this, continued his daily discourses upon the administration of government, preparing the prince for the important command of the royal regiments, which they hoped favorable destiny would soon grant him.