Wilhelmina wore an under-skirt of white satin, a red tunic, gayly embroidered and festooned with white roses; a white satin bodice, embroidered with silver, defined her full but pliant form, and displayed her luxurious bust in its rare proportions; a bouquet of red roses was fastened upon each shoulder, and held the silvery veil which half concealed the lovely throat and bosom. The long, black, unpowdered hair fell in graceful ringlets about her fair neck, and formed a dark frame for the beautiful face, glowing with health, youth, and intellect. In her hair she wore a wreath of red and white roses, and a bouquet of the same in her bosom.
She was, indeed, dazzling in her beauty, and was, perhaps, conscious of her power; her eyes sparkled, and a ravishing smile played upon her lips as she looked up at the prince, who stood dumb and embarrassed before her, and could find no words to express his admiration.
“If it is agreeable to your highness, let us join your company,” said the princess, at last, anxious to put an end to this interview. She extended her hand coolly to her husband; he grasped it, and held it fast, but still stood silently looking upon her.
“Madame,” said he, at last, in low and hesitating tones—“madame, I have a request to make of you.”
“Command me, my husband,” said she, coldly; “what shall I do?”
“I do not wish to command, but to entreat,” said the prince.
“Well, then, Prince Henry, speak your request.”
The prince gave the bouquet of white camelias to his wife, and said, in a faltering, pleading voice, “I beg you to accept this bouquet from me, and to wear it to-day in your bosom, although it is not your shepherd who offers it!”
“No, not my shepherd, but my husband,” said the princess, removing angrily the bouquet of roses from her bodice. “I must, of course, wear the flowers he gives me.”
Without giving one glance at the flowers, she fastened them in her bosom.