"She is truly proud yet," murmured he, shrugging his shoulders. "The hangman's whip did not humble her—that pleases me; and I am more than ever convinced we will succeed with her; she must and shall be beloved of the king; and as she will not go to him, well, then, I will bring him to her. To-morrow the king will visit the site chosen for the palace of the queen-mother: that will be a glorious opportunity to induce him to enter her hut."
Dorris Bitter had risen, and with uplifted arm and a proud glance she had followed Pollnitz. Her whole being was in feverish excitement. In this hour she was no more a poor, disheartened woman, from whom all turned away with contempt, but a proud wife conscious of her honor and her worth, who commanded her persecutor from her presence; who asked no mercy or grace, and demanded a recognition of her purity.
As the steps of the baron faded away, and Dorris was again alone, her feverish excitement subsided, and she was again a poor, pallid, trembling, humble woman. With a cry of the most profound woe she sank back in her chair, and stared long before her. Suddenly she murmured from between her tightly-compressed lips: "Woe to him! woe to him! when he forgets what I have suffered for him; woe to him, if he does not remove the shame which crushes me! woe to him, if he despises me as others do! Then will Dorris Eitter be his irreconcilable enemy, and she will take vengeance so true as there is a God over us!"
CHAPTER XI.
THE PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE.
"Courage, my dear friend," said Madame von Brandt to Count Voss, who stood before her with the most mournful expression, and seemed so lost in grief as to be scarcely aware of the presence of his charming and bewitching Armida.
"I do not understand how you can laugh and be gay, if you love me," he said, sadly.
"I love you truly, and therefore I am gay. We have almost gained our end; soon the suspicions of the world will be lulled, for who would dream that the husband of the young and beautiful Laura von Pannewitz could possibly love the old and ugly Madame von Brandt?"
"You old! you ugly!" cried the young count, indignantly. "It is well that it is you who utter such a blasphemy; if any other did, I should destroy him."