Though reduced by an
adverse destiny and the jealous hatred of one of the great ones of the
earth, who must be nameless, to the dire necessity of hiding myself
under this disguise, I am not what I seem. I do not need to blush for
my birth--rather I may glory in it. If I dared to betray the secrecy
imposed upon me, for reasons of state, I could prove to you that most
illustrious blood runs in my veins. Whoever may love me, noble though
she be, will not degrade herself. But I have already said too much--my
lips are sealed. I shall never be other than the humblest, most devoted
of your slaves; even though, by one of those strange coincidences that
happen sometimes in real life, I should come to be recognised by all the
world as a king's son. If in your great goodness you will condescend to
show me, fair goddess of beauty, by the slightest sign, that my
boldness has not angered you, I shall die happy, consumed by the burning
brightness of your eyes upon the funeral pyre of my love."
How would Mme. la Marquise have received this ardent epistle? which had
perhaps done him good service already more than once. Would she have
looked favourably upon her humble suitor?--who can tell?--for the
feminine heart is past comprehension. Unfortunately the letter did not
reach her.
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