Still leaning on the bed, she looked at her child with painful tenderness.

Camilla's mocking laughter had pierced her soul as with a dagger.
"Lost," she murmured, "both of us lost!" With passionate despair she threw her arms around the child, and pressed her closely; kissed her wildly again and again, and covered her face with burning tears.
"No, Camilla, no! you shall not be lost, you must remain good and pure! Every child has its guardian angel; pray, my child, pray that your angel may watch over you!" She pressed her again in her arms, then returned to her chamber, sadder and more hopeless than she had ever been before.
But this unusual sadness commenced to annoy her; her heart was not accustomed to feel sorrow, and her remorseful, dreary feeling made her shudder.

"If the carriage would but come!" she murmured, and then, as if to excuse her thoughtlessness, she added, "it is now my holy duty to listen to the prince; I must regain the respect of my child.

Yes, yes, I must become the wife of Henry I I can accomplish this, for the prince loves me truly." And now, she was again the coquette, whose captivating smile harmonized perfectly with her alluring costume--no longer the tender mother, no longer the sinner suffering from repentance and self-reproach.
She stood before the glass, and arranged her disordered dress and smoothed her dishevelled hair.
"I must be bewitching and fascinating," she murmured, with a smile that showed two rows of pearl-like teeth; "the prince must gain courage from my glance, to offer me his hand.

Oh, I know he is quite prepared to do so, if it were only to annoy his brother!" As she saw the carriage drive up, she exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, "The battle begins--to victory!".