"Madam," said the duchess, slowly rising from her knee, "the task of a spy is no task for your daughter."
Her figure was drawn to its utmost height; her brow was contracted; the likeness between herself and her mother was stronger than ever, and in that likeness Maria Theresa saw an end to her well-laid scheme of making the bride of the Duke of Parma a tool in her hands.
"Truly," said she with a scornful smile, "this ducal coronet has turned your head. Wilful and disobedient! We speak on this subject no more."
"Not in anger, my mother," exclaimed Josepha, striving to detain her, "not in anger must you part from me!"
Coldly the empress disengaged her hand: their eyes met—and the young princess staggered back, at the stern and deadly resentment in the pale face of Maria Theresa, and sank on the window-seat.
"It is broken!" said Josepha faintly, as the chain to which hung the portrait of the Duke of Parma fell in glittering fragments at her side. It had caught to the empress's dress, and was shattered. The young duchess leaned against the casement and wept.
To the young it is a very bitter pang to know that their best feelings have been excited merely to be worked upon; but sorrow and shame were soon merged in a vague and terrible fear. The evening
