She then with trembling hands loosened the golden sash from her tapering waist, and the diamond pins from her hair, and threw all these precious trinkets disdainfully upon the floor. And now with her small feet, with her embroidered silken shoes, she furiously stamped on them with flaming eyes, and in her paroxy** of anger slightly opening her lips, so as to show her two rows of peerless teeth which she held firmly pressed together.
Her fine hair, no longer fastened by the diamond pins, had fallen down, and was now floating around her form like a black veil, and closely covered her purple dress. Thus she looked like a goddess of vengeance, so beautiful, so proud, so glorious and terrible--her small hands raised toward heaven, and her feet crushing the jewelry.
"Insulted, scorned!" she murmured. "The meanest woman on the street believes she has a right to despise me--me, the celebrated Marianne Meier--me, at whose feet counts and princes have sighed in vain! And who am I, then, that they should dare to despise me?"
She asked this question with a defiant, burning glance toward heaven, but all at once she commenced trembling, and hung her head humbly and mournfully.
"I am a disgraced woman," she whispered. "Diamonds and velvet do not hide my shame. I am the prince's mistress. That's all!"
"But it shall be so no longer!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "I will put a stop to it. I MUST put a stop to it! This hour has decided my destiny and broken my stubbornness. I thought I could defy the world in MY way. I believed I could laugh at its prejudices; but the world is stronger than I, and therefore I have to submit, and shall hereafter defy it in its own way. And I shall do so most assuredly.
I shall do so on the spot."
Without reflecting any further, she left her chamber and hastened once more through the rooms. Her hair now was waving wildly around her shoulders, and her purple dress, no longer held together by the golden sash, was floating loosely around her form. She took no notice whatever of her dishabille; only one idea, only one purpose filled her heart.
In breathless haste she hurried on, and now quickly opened a last door, through which she entered a room furnished in the most sumptuous and comfortable manner.
At her appearance, so sudden, and evidently unexpected, the elderly gentleman, who had reposed on the silken sofa, arose and turned around with a gesture of displeasure.
On recognizing Marianne, however, a smile overspread his features, and he went to meet her with a pleasant greeting.
"Back already, dearest?" he said, extending his hand toward her.
"Yes, your highness--I am back already," she said drily and coldly.
The gentleman upon whose features the traces of a life of dissipation were plainly visible, fixed his eyes with an anxious air upon the beautiful lady. He only now noticed her angry mien and the strange dishabille in which she appeared before him.
"Good Heaven, Marianne!" he asked, sharply, "what is the cause of your agitation, of your coldness toward me? What has happened to you?"
"What has happened to me? The most infamous insults have been heaped upon my head!" she exclaimed with quivering lips, an angry blush suffusing her cheeks, "For a quarter of an hour, nay, for an eternity, I was the target of the jeers, the contempt, and the scorn of the rabble that publicly abused me in the most disgraceful manner!"
"Tell me," exclaimed the old gentleman, "what has occurred, and whose fault it was!"
"Whose fault it was?" she asked, bending a piercing glance upon him.
"YOURS, my prince; you alone are to blame for my terrible disgrace and humiliation. For your sake the rabble has reviled me, called me your mistress, and laughed at my diamonds; calling them the reward of my shame! Oh, how many insults, how many mortifications have I not already suffered for your sake--with how many bloody tears have I not cursed this love which attaches me to you, and which I was nevertheless unable to tear from my heart, for it is stronger than myself. But now the cup of bitterness is full to overflowing. My pride cannot hear so much contumely and scorn. Farewell, my prince, my beloved! I must leave you. I cannot stay with you any longer.
Shame would kill me. Farewell! Hereafter, no one shall dare to call me a mistress."
With a last glowing farewell, she turned to the door, but the prince kept her back. "Marianne," he asked, tenderly, "do you not know that I love you, and that I cannot live without you?"
She looked at him with a fascinating smile. "And I?" she asked, "far from you, shall die of a broken heart; with you, I shall die of shame. I prefer the former. Farewell! No one shall ever dare again to call me by that name." And her hand touched already the door- knob.
The prince encircled her waist with his arms and drew her back. "I shall not let you go," he said, ardently. "You are mine, and shall remain so! Oh, why are you so proud and so cold? Why will you not sacrifice your faith to our love? Why do you insist upon remaining a Jewess?"
"Your highness," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, "why do you want me to become a Christian?"
"Why?" he exclaimed. "Because my religion and the laws of my country prevent me from marrying a Jewess."
"And if I should sacrifice to you the last that has remained to me?" she whispered--"my conscience and my religion."
"Marianne," he exclaimed, solemnly, "I repeat to you what I have told you so often already: 'Become a Christian in order to become my wife.'"
She encircled his neck impetuously with her arms and clung to him with a passionate outburst of tenderness. "I will become a Christian!" she whispered.