He could have cried aloud for joy as he saw her in her bewildering loveliness, her luxuriant beauty.

He longed to seize her hands and cover them with kisses--to tell her how much he had suffered, how much he was still suffering for her sake.
But Louise appeared not to have seen him, not to have noticed his entrance.

She had only eyes and ears for the queen, who was just dismissing her with winning words, telling her to remain in the castle and return when she desired to see her.
"I shall remain and await your majesty's commands," said Louise, withdrawing hastily.
The queen now greeted the prince as if she had just observed him, and invited him to be seated on the fauteuil near her couch.

The prince obeyed, but he was absent-minded and restless, and the more the queen endeavored to engage him in harmless and unconstrained conversation, the more monosyllabic and preoccupied he became.

The poor prince remembered only that his beloved was so near, that only a door separated them, and prevented him from gazing on her beauty.
Yes, Louise was really in the next room, in the cabinet of the queen, sorrowful and exhausted; she had fallen upon the little sofa near the door, the smile had left her lips, and her brilliant, bewitching eyes were filled with tears.