I accompanied the commissioner, as he left the Council, down-stairs, and we found his military escort in a state of anxiety and excitement, for one of the officers had left them two hours before, and had not yet returned, and they had called and hunted for him everywhere.  The Russians were furious, and cried out that we had murdered one of their officers.  I succeeded in quieting them, but my own heart I could not quiet; it felt convulsively cramped when I heard the name of this missing officer.  Need I name him?”

Elise did not answer.  She looked at her father, with tears in her eyes, and shook her head languidly.

Gotzkowsky continued:  “It is the name of a man to whom I formerly showed much friendship; toward whom I exercised hospitality, and whom I made free of my house, and who now shows his gratitude by stealing the heart of my daughter, like a pitiful thief.  Oh, do not attempt to deny this.  I know it, Elise; and if I have hitherto avoided speaking to you about this matter, it was because I had confidence in your sound sense, and in the purity of heart of a German girl to sustain you in resisting a feeling which would lead you astray from the path of duty and honor.  I do not say that you loved him, but that he wished to seduce you into loving him clandestinely, behind your father’s back.  That is his gratitude for my hospitality.”

Speaking thus, Gotzkowsky pressed his daughter’s hand more firmly in his own, and continued approaching more closely to the door.  “Only think,” continued he, “the mad thought crossed my mind—­’How if this man should be rash and foolhardy enough to have gone to my daughter?’ But I forgot to tell you his name.  Feodor von Brenda was the name of the treacherous guest, and Feodor von Brenda was also the name of the officer who left the commissioner, perhaps in search of some love adventure.  But why do you tremble?” asked he in a loud tone, as her hand quivered in his.

“I do not tremble, father,” replied she, striving for composure.

Gotzkowsky raised his voice still higher till it sounded again.  “Forgive me this suspicion, my daughter.  I should have known that, even if this insolent Russian dared to renew a former acquaintance, my daughter would never be so mean, never stoop so low as to welcome him, for a German girl would never throw away her honor on a Russian boor.”

“Father,” cried Elise, terrified and forgetting all her prudence, “oh, father! do not speak so loud.”

“Not so loud?  Why, then, some one can hear us?” asked Gotzkowsky, pressing the arm of his daughter.  “I will speak loud, I will declare it aloud.  He is a scoundrel who conceals himself in a dastardly and dishonorable manner, instead of defending himself! a coward who would put the honor of a maiden in the scale against his own miserable life.  No German would do that.  Only a Russian would be base enough to hide himself, instead of defending his life like a man!”