"My father is dead, and with him the dreams which for years we have dreamt together. Was there ever a more cruel irony of Fate than this? Was Fate itself ever more unkind to man or woman? Only a few weeks ago, and I had sold myself, with his consent, so far did our devotion go to serve the sacred cause of our house, to this big, handsome Alsatian--a servant of the German Emperor, the arch-enemy of our country, the owner of the two provinces which my ancestor Louis tore from Germany. I did it because in high politics it is necessary sometimes to sacrifice oneself, partly too because no other man had appealed to me as he did. I knew that he was running tremendous risks; I believed--yes, and I still believe, that he was risking everything--rank, honour, liberty, even life itself, by wearing the uniform of his country's enemy so that he might learn his enemy's secrets. "He loves me--yes, if ever man loved woman, he loves me--me, Adelaide de Condé, Marquise de Montpensier; and I--ah, mon Dieu, is it possible that the daughter of Marie Antoinette has sunk so low?--I allowed him to believe that I loved him too. He believes it now. I suppose he would still believe it, even if he knew what I know now--that his father is dead, that the secret of the world-empire which he could have given us, that power for which I promised myself to him, so that I might share it with him, has gone, that it is worse than lost, since the Fates have given it into the hands of the enemies of our house. "And so it is gone--worse than gone--and so, my friend Victor, I am afraid you will have to find out in the course of circumstances that a woman's smiles do not always mean a reflection of the light in her lover's eyes, and that her kisses do not always mean love. It is a pity, because, after all, I believe you are a true Frenchman, even if you wear a German uniform; and if that dream had become a reality, and you and I had shared the throne of France, perhaps I should have loved you as well and as truly as most queens have loved their consorts.