During this separation Königsmarck addressed other letters to the Princess in a similar strain, full of extravagant expressions of passion. It is not necessary to quote them, because they are, in the main, a repetition of what has gone before. The Princess apparently answered some of the letters, but she was chary of writing to him from Epsdorff, for, in spite of all the caution observed, the intrigue had begun to excite suspicion. It was mentioned to the Duchess of Celle, and she took the opportunity of her daughter’s visit to remonstrate with her, and to implore her to avoid further communication with Königsmarck. The warnings of her mother, who dearly loved her, aroused the Princess to a sense of peril. She made another effort to draw back. When she returned to Hanover, she wrote to Königsmarck urging him to marry, as the only way of freeing them both from the dangers that threatened them. Her letter called forth the following remonstrance:— “[HANOVER, undated.] “Alas! the miserable day that I have feared so much has dawned. I must marry, since you wish it; it shall be done. I will obey your wishes; it is enough that you will have it so. My death-sentence is inscribed by the hand I adore. I confess I should never have expected to see so dreadful a sentence passed on me by you. But of what am I complaining? I must remember that I have loved you, and I ought to have known the sex better than to believe all you vowed to me. Alas! I was weak and believed it; I must now be firm enough to support the consequences. Your cruelty goes too far, for, unless you wished to wound me, you could never have treated me thus. Why has not God given you a heart less cruel and me a heart less tender?—we should agree better then. I have never been but yours; I wanted to be so all my life,[77] but you do not regard my constancy.... You wish me to marry to save myself from destruction, but you do not reflect that marriage would surely bring about my ruin. There are two ways of escape from this dilemma. The first, and the more agreeable to me, is for you not to suffer me to marry; and if my ruin follows, as I foresee, not to forsake me. The second will be easier for you. It is to let me marry, and swear to me on your oath that you will always cherish the affection you have seemed to show me. I will wait until your answer comes, which I hope to receive from your hand (not disguised, if you please);[78] and I mean to regulate my conduct accordingly, so that I may have nothing to reproach myself with. But you love me no longer—your head has triumphed over your heart; and it is not even enough that you love me no longer, you wish me to love you no more. What a hard thing! How will it be possible for me to obey? No, Madame, in spite of all, I shall always adore you; my love will be extinguished only with my life.