It was so sweet to dream of him--to recall his words, his smiles,
his sighs; all those little shades and signs which seemed so
unimportant to the careless, but which convey so much to the loving
observer!
He had written to her yesterday, and she--she had had the cruel
courage to return his letter unopened. But she had first pressed it
to her lips and to her heart with streaming eyes, and had then
fallen on her knees to pray to God, and to implore him to give her
strength and courage to overcome her heart, to renounce his love.
Since then an entire day had passed, and she had not seen him, had
heard nothing of him. Oh, he must be sad and very angry with her; he
wished never to see her again. And because he was angry, and wished
to hold himself aloof from her, he, the loving and attentive son,
had even neglected to pay the accustomed morning visit to his royal
mother, which he had never before omitted.
Her heart beating hurriedly, and weeping with anguish, Laura had
been standing before her window curtain awaiting him, and had prayed
to God that she might see him, or at least hear his voice in the
distance. But the prince did not arrive, and now the time had passed
at which he was accustomed to come. The queen had already retired to
her study, and would admit no one.
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