"But you do not love me," shrieked the maddened girl. "You are here by command of the empress."
"And the Esterhazys have always been the loyal servants of the empress. Whenever she commands, they obey—were it at the cost of life and happiness. Allow me, then, to persevere in my obedience, not only to her desires, but to my own. I once more solicit the honor of your hand."
"Woe to you if, after this, I yield!" cried she, with threatening gesture. "I have stooped to entreat you, and my prayers have been vain. I have withdrawn the womanly veil that concealed my heart's cherished secret, and you have not renounced your unmanly suit. I said that I did not love you. Look at me, and hear me, while I vow eternal hatred, should I be forced to give you my hand."
"There is but one step from hate to love. Allow me to hope that you will think better of it, and take that step."
A fearful cry rang from her lips, her eyes glowed like burning coals, and she raised her clinched hand as though she had hoped it might fell him to the earth. But suddenly it sank helpless to her side, and she looked long and searchingly into Count Esterhazy's face.
A long silence ensued. "It is well," said she, at length, in clear, shrill tones. "You have challenged me to mortal combat, and it may be that you will win. But, oh, believe me when I tell you that victory will bring you no glory! Your strength is not your own; it lies in the imperial hand of Maria Theresa. I swear to you that if I become your wife, my whole life shall be consecrated to hatred and revenge. Count Esterhazy, I hold my word inviolate, whether I pledge it to friend or foe; tend when the blight shall fall upon your head that will grow out of this hour we have spent together, remember that had you been a man of honor you might have spared yourself the shame!"
Without another word she lifted her proud head, and, with a look of withering scorn, left the room.
Count Esterhazy's eyes followed her retreating figure, and his placid brow grew troubled. "Beautiful as she is," murmured he, "it is dangerous to woo her. She has the beauty of Medusa. My heart positively seems to petrify under her glance. I would be more than willing to renounce the honor of wedding this beautiful demon, but I dare not refuse."
And he drew out his delicate, embroidered handkerchief to wipe off the big drops of sweat that stood upon his forehead.
"Well?" asked Count Starhemberg, opening the door and putting through his head.