class="normal">"What can we do?--we must exercise patience. But if it continue thus, we shall have nothing left."

"Go to him, Beate! Pray, implore."

"To him! You ask no small matter. I should venture into a robber's cave, late at night--for at an earlier hour he could not be found--into a gambling hell, for I know he has opened one here!"

"You have already done much for me, make this sacrifice also."

"Oh, I am not afraid, and if I met a lion in the cage, I would pull his mane; he should do nothing to me. But he will reject my propositions as he has always done. Yes, even if I found proofs."

"Proofs! They will not give me back my freedom--yes, if he would, if he became a subject of this country--we could appeal to justice; it would even decide against the verdict of the church."

"Proofs never do any harm--who knows what may happen? Perhaps his speculations may some day oblige him to settle down here--then it would always be well to possess proofs that may be turned against him, but it will be difficult, almost impossible! However, I will venture to go and seek him this evening. Perhaps chance may favour me."

"A craving for happiness has come over me, so intense as to strain every nerve in my bosom. A glance at the smiling horizon brightens our souls--and yet tears stand in our eyes. We weep with a prescience of happiness which nevertheless appears to be unattainable. I do not know why the pictures of my life crowd like feverish visions around me. I seem to hear the sound of bells in the days of my childhood; I see myself, dressed, go with the other children over high hills to the pilgrims' chapel; then another bell ringing sounds in my ear. In those days I did not know that it was the death-knell of all my life! Then again I hear the exulting applause of many thousands, whom my song delights, and yet I would give it all up for one whispered word of love, of love that had the right to lasting happiness."

Giulia was to sing in the "Somnambula" on that evening; she felt in harmony with the part, to herself she often appeared to be walking in her sleep.

Blanden came after the close of the theatre, and was admitted; Beate hid her dark curls beneath a hood and begged Giulia for a dagger.

"I am going to the bandit, I must protect myself!"

Giulia started; a dagger always awoke gruesome recollections in her.

Blanden smiled, "Probably some masquerade?"

"Corpo di bacco," said Beate, "the mask is not wanting, but the fun is desperately poor."

She received the dagger from her friend, and was dismissed with a kiss.

Outside, Beate gave the maid instructions to be on the alert and to wait for her even if she should return late. Antonie listened to the directions with lowered eyelids and humble obedience, but at heart she had decided differently. She knew that Blanden would stay at least an hour, and if she should not disturb them, she would follow her own amusements quite as undisturbedly.

Exactly opposite, in the large hall, there was a people's ball, and Friederich, a cunning child of Berlin, servant to Lieutenant Buschmann, had invited her to dance there with him for a little while, and had promised to fetch her. All were pursuing their own pleasures, why should she alone pass the time in solitude?

Giulia was melancholy, Blanden in a softened mood.

Outside, jingled the bells of the sleighs, the winter sky, hard as steel, was covered with clouds, and heavy dense snow-flakes, which fell down soft as wool, proclaimed that the cold had diminished.

The room was so homelike. The tea, which with all its accompaniments, had been brought in by Antonie, who was then graciously dismissed, infused upon the table. The fire crackled on the hearth.

There was nothing to remind one of theatrical tinsel, everything bore the impress of domestic comfort, to which the busts of the great masters of art lent a radiance of idealism.

"Only the north knows this homelike comfort," said Blanden, "the Laplander in his smoky hut, the dweller in Kamskatka who has unharnessed his dogs, feel it more than the happy children of the south, who wander beneath palms."

"And more perhaps than we," added Giulia, "because as the crackling coals upon the hearth, so do fading dreams stir in our souls, and often burst once more into flames; of what use is this room's repose, if that in our hearts be wanting?"

"That repose is best found in genial companionship; words have not yet lost the spell of their magic power; familiar communication from lip to lip can absolve us, it is the secret of the confessional."

Giulia felt the truth of these words in her inmost heart; how everything within her urged her to such absolution, and yet--it could not be, 'twas vain!

Convulsive sobs overcame her, and Blanden was amazed at the intensity of the emotions which his passing remark had roused. How light her heart would have been if she could have imparted to her friend all that engrossed and tortured her day and night!

Yes, if he had only been a friend! But he should be more, be everything to her, and one candid word could destroy her whole future. Perhaps she might still succeed in breaking the evil magic to which she had succumbed. Thus silence must be maintained.

Together they read the recollections of Silvio Pellico; a deep impression was made upon them by the picture of an artist in chains and fetters--oh, those were not the worst which hung from the iron ring of a prison wall.

She displayed the greatest sympathy; to her it was as if the damp air wafted through the casemates of the Spielberg filled her life, too, with the same mouldy breath.

She spoke of the castle of Chillon; that little spot had filled her with intense sadness. There were plenty of dungeon towers for salamanders and frogs, but this tomb of freedom made such a deeply melancholy impression, surrounded as it is by the waves of a beautiful lake, and granting a view of the peaks, high as heaven, of the Savoy alps, which rise in the air like a fortress of liberty. It is this contrast that makes such a painful impression, and as if called forth by deepest emotions, she uttered the beautiful verse out of the "Ruins" by Anastatius Grün--

Such ardent longing for liberty, for release, was shown in her recital of these lines, in the tone of her voice, it was like the cry of distress of a whole life, and at the same time the expression of utter devotion.

Blanden could not help it, he folded the beautiful woman to his heart, and pressed a glowing kiss upon her lips.

At that moment some one knocked, and simultaneously the door was thrown open.

Lieutenant Buschmann entered; disappointment and rage held him spell-bound, so that he stood as if rooted to the ground; his bold attack, upon which he had staked his last hope, had been shamefully frustrated, but at least he possessed the proof that Giulia favoured another, that her reserve was a lie.

His cheeks, always red, burned like fire, and he stamped his jingling spurs upon the floor.

Everything had commenced so hopefully. Antonie had gone to the ball with Friederich, and had entrusted the house and door key to the latter's care. Under some pretence the officer's