"You are not so laconic as you were just now," said the king. "One can see distinctly that you say what is untrue. You have not been at the palace? Answer me, yes or no."
"I say no," said Consuelo, boldly preferring the mortification of being convicted of falsehood, to that of betraying the secret of another.
"Not three hours ago, you left the palace alone."
"Not so," said Consuelo, who regained her presence of mind, by discovering in the king's face an almost imperceptible expression of irresolution, and who seemed to enjoy his surprise.
"You have dared to say No, thrice to me," said the king, offended and enraged.
"I dare say so yet a fourth time, if your majesty wills it." She had resolved to meet the storm face to face.
"Oh! I know that a woman will stick to a lie, amid agony and torture, firmly as the first Christians did, when they believed in the truth. Who will dare flatter himself that he will be able to wrest a sincere reply from a woman. Hitherto I have respected you, because I fancied you a solitary exception from the vices of your sex. I thought you neither bold, impudent, nor an intriguer. I had conceived almost a friendship for you."
"And now, sire——"
"Do not interrupt me. Now, I have an opinion, the consequences of which you will feel. If you have had the folly to participate in the petty palace cabals, to receive misplaced confidences, and render certain dangerous services, you must not expect to deceive me for a long time, for I will dismiss you with as much contempt as I received you with distinction and kindness."
"Sire," said Consuelo, boldly, "as the most sincere and earnest of my wishes is to leave Prussia, without the slightest care for the cause of my dismissal, I will receive an order to depart with gratitude."