_Illa_.--"Alas, gracious Prince, of what use will it be to me, when I have no one to teach me how to play?"
"I will teach thee, oh, how willingly, but--thou knowest what I would say."
_Illa_.--"No, no, I dare not learn from your Highness. Now go, and do not make me more miserable."
"What makes thee miserable, enchanting Sidonia?"
_Illa_.--"Ah, if your Highness could know how this heart burns within me like a fire! What will become of me? Would that I were dead--oh, I am a miserable maiden! If your Highness were but a simple noble, then I might hope--but now. Woe is me! I must go! Yes, I must go!"
"Why must thou go, my own sweet darling? and why dost thou wish me to be only a simple noble? Canst thou not love a duke better than a noble?"
_Illa_.--"Gracious Prince, what is a poor count's daughter to your princely Highness? and would her Grace ever consent? Ah no, I must go--I must go!"
Here she sobbed so violently, and covered her eyes with her hands, that the young Duke could no longer restrain his feelings. He seized her passionately in his arms, and was kissing away the crocodile tears, when lo, another knock came to the door, and Sidonia grew paler even than the first time, for there was no place to hide the Prince in, as the witch-wench was already under the bed, and not even quite hidden, for some of her red petticoat was visible round the post, and one could easily see by the way it moved that some living body was in it, for the girl was trembling with the most horrible fear and fright. But the Prince was too absorbed in love either to notice all this or to mind the knock at the door.
Sidonia, however, knew well that it was over with them now, and she pushed away the young Prince, just as the door opened and Clara entered, who grew quite pale, and clasped her hands together when she saw the Duke and Sidonia together; then the tears fell fast from her eyes, and she could utter nothing but--"Ah, my gracious Prince--my poor innocent Prince--what has brought you here?" but neither of them spoke a word. "You are lost," exclaimed Clara; "the Duchess is coming up the corridor, and has just stopped to look at her pet cat and the kittens there by the page's room. Hasten, young Prince--hasten to meet her before she comes a step further."