Farewell, Elizabeth." She waved a good-by to her with her hand, and with hurried step left the room.

She summoned up courage to conceal the agonies of her soul, and to pass proud and stately through the halls.

To the courtiers bowing before her, she would still be the queen, and no one should suspect what agony was torturing her within like flames of fire.

But at last arrived at her boudoir--at last sure of being overheard and observed by no one--she was no longer the queen, but only the agonized, passionate woman.
She sank on her knees, and cried, with a heart-rending wail of anguish: "My God, my God, grant that I may become mad, so that I may no longer know that he has forsaken me!".