"More so than your Majesty supposes."
"Countess, you terrify me."
"Your Majesty?" Anna smiled. "Why should my lord care aught about severity?"
"More than you suppose," replied the King, repeating her own words.
"That I cannot understand," whispered Anna.
"What? Then you do not wish to see that I was conquered by your first glance."
"That will not last until day-break, I fancy. Your Majesty has this in common with the gods, that you love and forget easily."
"No," exclaimed the King, "believe me, those are calumnies. Is it my fault that I have never yet met with a heart, a mind, a beauty to which I was able to attach myself for ever? It is not I who am unfaithful, I am betrayed. Each day these goddesses lose some charm, miracles become ordinary phenomena, the angels lose their wings, and, instead of finding love in the heart, I discover only coquettishness and coldness. Am I the guilty one? Believe me, madame," he continued, with enthusiasm, "I am busy searching for a woman to whom I could belong all my life long. To such a woman I would give myself entirely."
"It is difficult to believe that," whispered Anna, "and it is still more difficult to imagine a perfection that would be worthy of your Majesty."
"I find it in you," interrupted the King. "You are bewitching," he added, stretching forth his hands to seize hers.