"You intend to disobey the King?" inquired Hoym.
"Why not? He rules over everything, I know, but he does not rule over family life. What can he do to me?"
"Nothing to you," replied Hoym, uneasily. "He is only too polite to beautiful women, but he will send me to Königstein, and confiscate our estates. Misery and death threaten us!"
He covered his face with his hands.
"You do not know him," he whispered. "He beams and smiles like Apollo, but all the time he is terrible as the god of thunderbolts. He has never yet forgiven any one who doubted that he was all-powerful. You must be present at the ball, or I shall perish!"
"Do you think, then, that the threat of your peril is so terrible to me?"
She shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the window.
Hoym followed her, pale as a ghost.
"For God's sake listen to reason!" he exclaimed, "You cannot intend disobeying the King's commands."
He had scarcely finished speaking, when there was a tap at the door, and a lackey entered. Hoym frowned.