Yes, 'tis done. I have the order all in
Ratafia's hand; I carry it on my heart. At the hour of twelve to-
night, Prince Featherhead is to be taken in his bed and, like the
bambino, whipped into a chariot; and by next morning he will command
a most romantic prospect from the donjon of the Felsenburg.
Farewell, Featherhead! The war goes on, the girl is in my hand; I
have long been indispensable, but now I shall be sole. I have
long,' he added exultingly, 'long carried this intrigue upon my
shoulders, like Samson with the gates of Gaza; now I discharge that
burthen.'
She had sprung to her feet a little paler. 'Is this true?' she
cried.
'I tell you a fact,' he asseverated. 'The trick is played.'
'I will never believe it,' she said. 'An order in her own hand? I
will never believe it, Heinrich.'
'I swear to you,' said he.
'O, what do you care for oaths - or I either? What would you swear
by? Wine, women, and song? It is not binding,' she said. She had
come quite close up to him and laid her hand upon his arm. 'As for
the order - no, Heinrich, never! I will never believe it. I will
die ere I believe it. You have some secret purpose - what, I cannot
guess - but not one word of it is true.'
'Shall I show it you?' he asked.
'You cannot,' she answered. 'There is no such thing.'
'Incorrigible Sadducee!' he cried. 'Well, I will convert you; you
shall see the order.
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