The door opened; now he entered. The light of the wax candles fell on his face. It was handsome as ever, but his eye was cold, and his lips uttered no loving greeting. He walked forward a few steps, stood still, and bowed in a stiff and formal manner. A chill of horror crept over Elizabeth; her arms sank down, and the smile vanished from her pallid face.
"Madame," said the king, and his voice sounded harsher and colder than she had ever before heard it—"madame, I must first beg your pardon for having disturbed you at so unseemly a time, and for having robbed you of an hour's sleep. But you see that I am a repentant sinner, and you will forgive me when I assure you that, as this is my first, it shall also be my last violation of your retirement!"
The queen uttered a low cry, and pressed her hand to her heart. She felt as if a sword had pierced her breast, as if she were dying.
The king raised his large blue eyes with a surprised look to the pale, trembling face of his wife.
"You are pale, you are ill," said he, "and my presence is undoubtedly annoying; I will retire and send your waiting-maids to your assistance."
While he was speaking the queen prayed to God for courage and strength; she called her womanly pride to her assistance, and struggled against her tears and her despair. The king, who in vain had waited for an answer, now hastily approached the door, murmuring a few impatient words.
But Elizabeth's courage had now returned, she had conquered her heart.
"Remain, sire," she said; "I beg you to remain; I feel well again. It was only a passing spasm from which I often suffer, and for which I crave your indulgence."
"If I may then remain," said the king, smiling, "permit me to conduct you to a seat."
She accepted the king's proffered arm and followed him to the sofa on which she had awaited him with such blissful anticipations, and on which he was now about to put her heart to the torture.