She grasped at her receding anger, but it vanished. Into its place flashed an enchanting sense of danger; the wildness in her Hapsburg blood leaped its dike and seemed to roar in her ears the while it sang in her soul. She forgot the years in which she had mourned the subjugation of Rudolf’s fine brain by his passions, and the interminable disasters his weakness had entailed. Why should she not be thankful that her own drama had begun at last? She should live and feel. What mattered the end? It was by no means the first time the temptation had beset her since she had met Fessenden Abbott, but her brain had controlled her hitherto; she had fancied that her clear vision would keep the end always in view, however she might feel the weakness of woman within her and indulge it in friendship, while working for the cause of her house. But the excitement and exhilaration of this evening had lifted her to reckless heights, her pulses were throbbing, her being was trembling with exaltation, her head almost whirling. And before her was the great company who knew nothing, suspected nothing. To live in their very presence, as if they were ants on a hill--her newly born dramatic sense flew to the fanning of her emotions. She leaned heavily on his arm and raised her eyes. “Am I?” she whispered again. “I wondered--I heard your _Élyen_.” “I knew that you heard it.” “I did not turn my head.” “Nevertheless, I knew.” “Can you read my soul?” she exclaimed in a momentary panic. “Do not read too much.” “That is all I live for.” “You--who have so much else! Would you give up one of your ambitions for me?” “I would give up the whole game, every ambition, every penny.” “Your country?” “Yes, my country.” “You were very cool about it yesterday.” “Yesterday is not to-night.” “I had the greatest faith in your devotion to your country.” “When you feel as I do now you will have faith in nothing else.” “Do not be too mad. Let us be happy for this one evening.” “Is this your idea of happiness?” “I am as happy as I dare to be.” “When I have taught you what happiness is you will remember this prelude as a very poor affair.” “Have you also bought poor old Nadasdy’s jewels?” “No, he is not so bad as that; but he is not above renting them.” “Not another magnate would speak to him again if they knew what he had done.” “They are not to know it.” “Why did you wish to be king?” “For two reasons: I am tired of duennas and interruptions--I have not much patience. Matthias was the husband of Beatrice, and you are Beatrice. In the eyes of this fanciful company to-night you are my wife--I am your bridegroom.” He felt her tremble and draw in her breath sharply. But in a moment she raised her eyes again--and there was no veil upon them--and said: “Yes--I will be Beatrice for these few hours, and believe that you are Matthias. Is--do you mean to tell me that there is no happiness in such imagining? If I have been happy in my fancy before, surely this--this--”