cunning servant had left the ball for a short time, proceeded to his master's dwelling close by, and delivered up the key of the fortress to that master.

The game so far had succeeded, Friederich was once more dancing merrily with his unsuspicious partner.

Blanden sprang from the sofa, and stepped defiantly towards the intruder.

"Has this gentleman the right to intrude here?" he asked Giulia.

"No--by heaven, no! Only by force or cunning can he have obtained admission. Protect me from him!"

Giulia covered her face with her hands.

"Your conduct is shameless, sir!" cried Blanden to the officer.

"Not another word with you! But one word still with this lady, who has deceived us all; I owe it to the favour of chance that I have torn from her the mask with which she has passed before the world as an inexorable woman."

"You shall leave the room this moment," said Blanden with firm determination, "I have the right to bid you do so, because Signora Giulia Bollini--is engaged to me!"

With a loud cry, Giulia sank into the sofa cushions.

"Well, then, I congratulate you upon the Polter-abend,"^[1] said Buschmann scornfully, as he turned upon his heels and left the room amid the clatter of his spurs.

"What have you done?" said Giulia, as she gazed at Blanden with large tearful eyes, her hand raised as if in protest, and sobbing with internal agitation.

"I will protect you against all the world," cried Blanden with, overwhelming emotion, "my Giulia, my betrothed!"

And she lay in his arms, half unconscious, acquiescent, infinitely blissful, and desperately defiant of fate.

"Come what may," whispered she, "I am yours."

CHAPTER II.

IN THE LION'S DEN.

Beate looked enterprising enough in the Spanish mantilla, which she had thrown as a hood over her head; her little eyes sparkled; she resembled a tiger cat, going out in search of prey.

She rang at the door of a large house, and before the sleepy porter opened it, she tried whether the dagger would spring easily and quickly out of its sheath.

She knew the way; it led through a spacious hall, and through a second door standing open, past a back building of stables and sheds, which looked as if some manor house had gone astray in the town.

Then she arrived at a small gate, and through the railing perceived a two-storied garden house, of which the shutters were closed; only through the door, draped with curtains on the ground floor, gleamed a red light, whose lost reflection fell upon the silver of the frosty snow, with which the nearest yew trees were covered.

The gate was locked. Beate had to ring again.

Then the snow crackled, and a gnome-like creature crept up to the gate; almost buried beneath the weight of snow which the clouds and trees had shed upon her, she stared at the stranger with glaring eyes; she looked like an Esquimaux woman, at whose hut some stranger's hand knocks.

It was Kätchen! After that meeting with Blanden she had stayed up in her chamber; had tossed about upon her straw couch as if in feverish delirium, until the grey morn rose above the roofs, then she had fallen fast asleep. But mother Hecht knew no consideration for lazy maid-servants, who neglected their duties--and when Kätchen, on the following morning, appeared in the kitchen with hollow eyes and pallid face, she was immediately driven out of the house.

The Italian, who had known her at the sea-side, and had long had an eye upon her, had also often spoken to her in the witch's kitchen, heard of it; according to his views she combined two qualities which were of equal value for his purposes; want of understanding, sullen indifference to all that lay beyond her horizon, and a marvellously developed instinct for everything in which she was interested. That which was repulsive, even idiotic in her nature, was peculiarly acceptable to him; she passed unnoticed, no one cared about her. Thus she could do excellent service as a spy, and at night she was always to be found at her post as porteress and sentinel where forbidden pleasures were pursued.

"Open the gate," said Beate. Kätchen examined her from head to foot, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Aprite dunque," repeated Beate angrily, although the porteress, who seemed to belong to the polar regions, did not bear the least resemblance to an Italian.

Kätchen asked her name. Beate gave her a card, upon which were written the words Beate Romani.

The little porteress sprang along the garden walk, in doing which it pleased her to sweep the bushes in the nearest beds, so that their boughs rattled, and threw out clouds of snow.

Beate became impatient, she had to wait a long time; she shook the bars of the railing like a wild beast in a cage.

At last Käthe returned and opened the garden gate. Beate followed her into the villa, they passed through a garden lighted with red lamps, up a flight of steps, covered with a lovely carpet. Beate had to wait in an ante-room; deathlike silence reigned in both the adjoining chambers disturbed by no cry, by no chink of money, as she had expected.

She looked at a picture on the wall; it represented a little church upon an island in a lake; on all sides, high, bare hills, which glowed in the radiant colouring of an Italian evening sky. She knew that church, and gazed at the picture with a shrug of her shoulders; it awoke a reminiscence, which at that moment was very unwelcome. And what mockery--the house of God in the antechamber of a gambling hell!

"I have not time now, Beate," said Baluzzi curtly, as he entered through a side door, "but I will make you a proposal! I have visitors with me, whom I am amusing with various games, now we are at roulette! Be my guest--che ne dite?"

"What shall I do there? Lose my good name?"

"Puo darsi! That is not an article which I keep in stock, but neither do those seek it who come to me. However, we are silent. If the means are wanting, I am at your service."

"I do not play!"

"Remember Monaco, you were a fisher of gold, the money clung to your rod."

"I am not prepared for it to-day."

"Here you have money, you shall play for me! But come, come, I have not time to talk."

Beate was not at all disinclined to take a peep into the secrets of the gaming hell; perhaps she might succeed in discovering something that could be useful to her friend; she allowed herself to be persuaded, laid cloak and hood aside, while Baluzzi said to her--

"You are doing me a slight favour, Beate! I need the fair sex in my parties, my graces gain wrinkles! But you are quite a pretty child, such a little snake with red, fiery eyes, you are a diavolessa. I know you; tanto meglio!"

Meanwhile they had traversed two empty rooms, and entered a brilliantly lighted saloon, the windows of which were made doubly safe by shutters and curtains.

A loud buzz of conversation met the new comers, the game having been interrupted. Baluzzi