“Who is she?” cried Feodor, laughing.  “Well, I will tell you, as you attack so much importance to it.  You have been served like the seekers after hidden treasure.  You have been seeking for gold, and, instead, you have only found coals to burn your fingers.  You sought after the millionnaire, the rich heiress, and, instead of her, you have only caught her—­chambermaid.”

“A chambermaid!” growled out his comrades, and turning their dark, lowering looks on Bertram, they inquired of him whether this woman were only a chambermaid in Gotzkowsky’s house, and assailed him with reproaches and curses because he had deluded them into the belief that Gotzkowsky’s daughter had been captured.

“If we had not thought so, we would not have let you in,” cried Lieutenant von Matusch.  “It was not worth while making so much fuss about a little chambermaid.”

“It was just for that very reason,” replied Bertram, “and because I knew that you would not otherwise help me, that I let you believe it was Gotzkowsky’s daughter whom you had captured; otherwise you would never have let me come near Colonel von Brenda.  And Mademoiselle Gotzkowsky had expressly directed me to apply to that gentleman, and I did so.  You can understand my doing so, when I inform you that this young girl is my sister!”

Feodor turned himself to Elise with an expression of anger on his countenance.  “Is this true?”

“It is true!” cried she, reaching her hand out to Bertram, with a look of heartfelt gratitude.  “He is my brother, my faithful brother!”

But, as she read in Feeder’s darkened countenance the marks of ill-concealed anger and jealousy, she turned toward her lover with a rare, sweet smile.  “Oh,” said she, “there is nothing nobler, nothing more sacred and unselfish, than the love of a brother.”

Feodor’s searching look seemed to penetrate into the inmost recesses of her heart.  Perhaps he read all the love, innocence, and strength that lay therein, for his brow cleared up, and his looks resumed their open cheerfulness.  Quickly he took Bertram’s hand and laid it in Elise’s.  “Well, then,” said he, “you happy pair, take each other’s hands, and thank God that the danger is over.  We have nothing to do with young and pretty girls—­we only want rich ones.  Go!”

“No, no,” cried the officers, “not at all, not without ransom!” Saying which, they pressed noisily and angrily nearer, raising their clinched fists.  “She must pay, or we will keep her!”

“Dare one of you touch her?” cried Feodor, drawing his sword, and placing himself in front of Elise.

“I have come to fetch my sister,” said Bertram, turning to the officers, “but I knew very well that you would not let her go unless her ransom were paid.  I therefore brought all my little portion with me.  Take this purse full of ducats, and let it pay for her.”

A cry of triumph was the answer from the soldiers as they drew Bertram toward the table that he might count out the money.  While they were dividing it among themselves, talking loudly and laughing merrily, Feodor remained standing at Elise’s side, neither daring to break the impressive silence.  Their souls communed with each other, and they needed not words nor outward signs.  At last, after a long pause, Feodor asked—­