'I commend you to your wife,' she said, 'be kind to her, love her. Frances will become accustomed to you; be happy! The happiness of this world is fragile and unstable--one must try to make life sweet and not embitter it. Frances, I hope that you will be good to him--'
She covered her eyes, as though some thought had prevented her from finishing what she had had in her mind.
Once more she bent over her daughter's forehead and kissed it. The son-in-law graciously offered his arm and conducted her downstairs to the court-carriage waiting for her, which she entered and hid herself from the gaze of the crowd.
The young bride remained alone for a time and when Brühl returned and wished to take hold of her arm, she looked at him surprised as if she had forgotten where she was and that she had become his wife.
'For God's sake,' the minister whispered, 'let us look happy at least before strangers. On the stage of life, we are all actors'--it was his favourite saying--'let us play our part well.'
Having said this he offered her his arm and conducted her through the row of lighted rooms, to her apartment. Everything she looked at was so magnificent, that to anyone but her it would have been a succession of surprises. She walked not looking and not seeing. At length they came to her dressing-room, situated in front of the chamber, in which two alabaster lamps were throwing a pale, mysterious light.
The young lady, seeing the open door before her, stopped; looked round for a chair, sat on one standing near the dressing-table, and became thoughtful.
They were alone; only the murmuring of the crowd admiring the illuminations was heard.
'Madam,' said Brühl sweetly, 'you are in your own house, and your most obedient servant stands before you.'
He wished to kneel; Frances rose suddenly, sighed, as if throwing off a burden, and said with a voice in which there was sadness: