And now, it struck a quarter to twelve.

Midnight--midnight was near, the last, the final hope that remained.

With the last stroke of the clock, the last ray of light seemed to fade away; and with the last ray faded her final hope.

And so, the king himself had deceived her; it was he who had been the first to fail in keeping the oath which he had sworn that very day; twelve hours only between his oath and his perjured vow; it as not long, alas! to have preserved the illusion.

And so, not only did the king not love her, but he despised her whom every one ill-treated, he despised her to the extent even of abandoning her to the shame of an expulsion which was equivalent to having an ignominious sentence passed on her; and yet, it was he, the king himself, who was the first cause of this ignominy.