But here he was again interrupted by the Queen. She, raising herself in her chair, her beautiful head and shoulders lifted statue-like from her enshrining draperies of azure and white, stretched forth a hand and beckoned Gloria towards her. “Come here, child!” she said; then as Gloria advanced with evident reluctance, she added; “Come closer--you must not be afraid of me!” Gloria smiled. “Nay, Madam, trouble not yourself at all in that regard! I never was afraid of anyone!” A shadow of annoyance darkened the Queen’s fair brows. “Since you have no fear, you may equally have no shame!” she said in icy-cold accents; “Therefore it is easy to understand why you deliberately refuse to see the harm and cruelty done to our son, the Crown Prince, by his marriage with you, if such marriage were in the least admissible, which fortunately for all concerned, it is not. He is destined to occupy the Throne, and he must wed someone who is fit to share it. Kings and princes may love where they choose,--but they can only marry where they must! You are my son’s first love;--the thought and memory of that may perhaps be a consolation to you,--but do not assume that you will be his last!” Gloria drew back from her; her face had paled a little. “You can speak so!” she said sorrowfully; “You,--his mother! Poor Queen--poor woman! I am sorry for you!” Without pausing to notice the crimson flush of vexation that flew over the Queen’s delicate face at her words, she turned, now with some haughtiness, to the King. “Speak plainly!” she said; “What is it you want of me?” Her flashing eyes, her proud look startled him--he moved back a step or two. Then he replied with as much firmness and dignity as he could assume. “Nothing is wanted of you, my child, but obedience and loyalty! Resign all claim upon the Crown Prince as his wife; promise never to see him again, or correspond with him,--and--you shall lose nothing by the sacrifice you make of your little love affair to the good of the country.”