Algarotti bowed to Rothenberg. "Friend," said he, "that was the last song of the dying swan."
"God grant that it was the last song of love, not the death-song of the king's heart! When a man tears love forcibly from his heart, I am sure he tears away also a piece of the heart in which it was rooted."
"Can we not think of something to console him? Let us go in the morning to Barbarina; perhaps we may learn from her what has happened."
"Think you we can do nothing more to-day to withdraw the king from his painful solitude?"
"I think the king is a warrior and a hero, and will be able to conquer himself."
While the king, in solitude, strengthened only by his genius, struggled with his love, Barbarina, with all the passion of her stormy nature, endured inexpressible torture. She was not alone—her sister was with her, mingled her tears with hers, and whispered sweet words of hope.
"The king will return to you; your beauty holds him captive with invisible but magic bonds. Your grace and fascinations will live in his memory, will smile upon him, and lure him back humble and conquered to your feet."
Barbarina shook her head sadly. "I have lost him. The eagle has burst the weak bonds with which I had bound his wings; now he is free, he will again unfold them, and rise up conquering and to conquer in the blue vaults of heaven. In the rapturous enjoyment of liberty he will forget how happy he was in captivity. No, no; I have lost him forever!"
She clasped her hands over her face, and wept bitterly. Then, as if roused to extremity by some agonizing thought, she sprang from her seat; her eyes were flashing, her cheeks crimson.
"Oh, to think that he abandoned me; that I was true to him; that a man lives who deserted Barbarina! That is a shame, a humiliation, of which I will die—yes, surely die!"