And now, it struck a quarter to twelve.

Midnight, midnight was near, the last, the final hope which remained, came in its turn.

With the last stroke of the clock, the last ray of light seemed to fade away; and with the last ray, so 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 was not long, certainly, to have preserved the illusion.

And so, not only did the king not love her, but still more, he despised her whom every one overwhelmed; 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 upon her; and yet, it was he, the king himself, who was the first cause of this ignominy.