"Ah, I could love her!" said Heinrich. "You should not extend your arms to me vain, beautiful soul; I would foster and cherish you as my most sacred possession; but it is impossible. Even if I should give her this man, what would she possess? A cold intellect and a sensuality which this poor ethereal nature would be unable to attract, and by which she would sooner or later be betrayed." Absorbed in these thoughts, he walked through the rooms to take his leave. He wished to go home, for he had lost all inclination for the entertainment. When he reached the last apartment a new dance had just commenced and drawn every one into the large salons. The room was silent and empty, only the lights in the candelabra burned with a low crackle; fans and withered bouquets lay scattered over the tables, and cloaks that had been carelessly cast aside were thrown upon the sofas. Everything bore witness to the bright and joyous life that had reigned here a few minutes before, and now the deserted chamber with its marble columns and gilded arches seemed like a mausoleum, where the soul might take a last farewell. He paused an instant. "Ottilie!" he murmured, half unconsciously, and the solemn mood he had felt a short time before again overmastered him. It seemed as if beneficent spirits were floating in the waves of light that surrounded him and trying to whisper something, but he could no longer understand them. Just then he suddenly heard a low rustle: some living creature was near. He looked around him and saw the princess standing in the doorway gazing at him with deep earnestness.
"Ottilie," cried Heinrich, "God has sent you here! The angel of my life called me, but I could no longer understand his words; for in the tumult of the world I have grown deaf to his spirit voice. He dwells in you; become his oracle, let him speak to me through your lips."
"Herr von Ottmar, my heart is filled with the thought of your welfare, but bow to help you I know not. I will pray your good angel to show me some means of fathoming the trouble in your soul. I know of no way unless"--she hesitated, less from embarrassment than to seek the right word,--"unless you can find a nature which will understand and have for you the patience of true love. Only the anxiety of a heart entirely devoted to you will discover the means of restoring your lost peace. That you may win such a being is the hope and desire of my soul."
"Princess," cried Heinrich, whom Ottilie's lovely enthusiasm had deeply charmed, "if I now say that I find such a being in you, that there is no woman to whom I will intrust my life except you--"
"No, my friend," said Ottilie calmly, though she turned pale. "You are deceived in yourself at this moment. You do not love it is the longing for the right which, thank God, always lives in you, which attracts you to my--I may be allowed to say it--pure soul. This is not love; I know it, and would never strengthen you in an error which would defraud you of the best portion of your life. Yet I thank you for your confession. It makes you appear still more lovable in my eyes; not because you have made it to me, but to the ideal to which I would so gladly see you rise."
"Ottilie, let me thank you on my knees for the light you have poured into my darkened soul, and let me swear I will do everything good and great of which I may be capable in your name, your spirit!" Heinrich impulsively threw himself at her feet and clasped her hands. "Oh, my soul loves you, Ottilie, with a love which--"
"Which is not of this world," interrupted Ottilie, bending over him. "Another love will enter your heart, and you will bless me for having had strength to refuse what does not belong to me! And now I entreat you to rise and leave me to myself."
Heinrich rose and started back as he looked at Ottilie. She was standing proudly erect, struggling for breath, as her tears flowed more and more violently; her eyes were closed, her delicate lips firmly compressed, she was a most touching picture of agonizing self-sacrifice.
"Poor heart! you love me, and yet are noble enough to reject me?" asked Heinrich.
"Yes, my friend," murmured Ottilie, "so truly as God will sustain me in my last hour, so truly I desire your happiness more than my own, so truly I resign you. You must be free, and choose freely. God grant you may find the right!"