"Have pity, your majesty," murmured Elizabeth Christine, laying her
hand softly on the shoulder of the queen; "see how the poor girl
suffers."
Sophia shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. "Nonsense! do we not
all suffer? have not I suffered? Is there a woman on God's earth
whose heart is not half melted away with hot and unavailing tears?"
"It is true," said Elizabeth; "we have but one exclusive privilege--
to weep and to endure."
The queen-mother turned again to Laura, who had checked her tears,
but was still standing bowed down, and trembling before her.
"Well," said Sophia, "it still does not suit you to inquire the name
of your lover, then I shall name him; mark well my words: it is
Count Voss who has chosen you for his wife, and to him alone you
have now to direct your heart and your tenderness."
Laura now raised her eyes and fixed them steadily upon this cruel
mistress; her glance was no longer soft and pleading, but
determined. The imperious manner of the queen, instead of
intimidating the pale and gentle girl, awakened her to the
consciousness of her own dignity. "Majesty," she said, with cool
decision, "love is not given by command, it cannot be bestowed
arbitrarily."
"By that you mean to affirm that you do not, and cannot love Count
Voss," said the queen, suppressing her fury with difficulty.
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