“Well, it is extraordinary enough,” said Brand, thoughtfully.  “With such a daughter, if she has the heart of a mother at all, how could she remain away from her for sixteen years?”

A thought struck him, and his forehead colored quickly.

“There was no disgrace?”

At this word Calabressa started, and the small eyes flashed fire.

“I tell you, monsieur, that it is not in my presence that any one must mention the word disgrace and also the name of Natalie Berezolyi.  No; I will answer—­I myself—­I will answer for the good name of Natalie Berezolyi, by the bounty of Heaven!”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“You are ignorant—­you made a mistake.  And I—­well, you perceive, monsieur, that I am not ashamed to confess—­I loved her; she was the radiant light, the star of my life!”

“La lumiere rayonnante, l’etoile de ma vie!”—­the phrases sounded ridiculous enough when uttered by this histrionic person; but even his self-conscious gesticulation did not offend Brand.  This man, at all events, had loved the mother of Natalie.

“Then it was some very powerful motive that kept mother and daughter apart?” said he.

“Yes; I cannot explain it all to you, if I quite know it all.  But every year the mother comes with a birthday present of flowers for the child, and watches to see her once or twice; and then away back she goes to the retreat of her father.  Ah, the devotion of that beautiful saint!  If there is a heaven at all, Natalie Berezolyi will be among the angels.”

“Then you have come to tell Natalie that her mother is alive.  I envy you.  How grateful the girl will be to you!”

“I?  What, I?  No, truly, I dare not.  And that is why I wish to speak to you:  I thought perhaps you would guess, or find out:  then I say, do not utter a word!  Why do I give you this secret?  Why have I sought to speak with you, monsieur?  Well, if you will not speak, I will.  Something the little Natalushka said—­to me she must always be the little Natalushka in name, though she is so handsome a woman now—­something she said to me revealed a little secret.  Then I said, ’Perhaps Natalushka will have a happier life than Natalie has had, only her husband must be discreet.’  Now, monsieur, listen to me.  What I said to Natalushka I say to you:  do not thwart her father’s wishes.  He is a determined man, and angry when he is opposed.”

“My good sir, other people may have an ounce or two of determination also.  You mean that I must never let Natalie know that her mother is alive, for fear of Lind?  Is that what you mean?  Come, then!”

He strode to the door, and had his hand on the handle, when Calabressa jumped up and caught him, and interposed.

“For Heaven’s sake—­for Heaven’s sake, monsieur, why be so inconsiderate, so rash?”

“Has the dread of this man frightened you out of your wits?”

“He is invulnerable—­and implacable,” said Calabressa.  “But he is a good friend when he has his own way.  Why not be friends?  You will have to ask him for his daughter.  Consider, monsieur, that is something.”