“You ask me to interfere—­to commit an act of injustice—­”

“Oh, signore, signore, this is what I ask!” she cried, quite overcome; and she fell at his feet, and put her clasped hands on his knees, and broke into a wild fit of crying; “this is what I ask of you, signore—­this is what I beg from you on my knees—­I ask you to give me the life of—­of my betrothed!”

She buried her face in her hands; her frame was shaken with her sobs.

“Little daughter,” said he, greatly agitated, “rise; come, remain here for a few moments; I wish to speak to your mother—­alone.  Natalie!”

The elder woman accompanied him a short distance across the lawn; they stood by the fountain.

“By Heaven, I would do anything for the child!” he said, rapidly; “but you see, dear friend, how it is impossible.  Look at the injustice of it.  If we transferred this duty to another person, what possible excuse could we make to him whom we might choose?”

He was looking back at the girl.

“It will kill her, Stefan,” the mother said.

“Others have suffered also.”

The elder woman seemed to collect herself a little.

“But I told you we had not said everything to you.  The poor child is in despair; she has not thought of all the reasons that induced us to come to you.  Stefan, you remember my cousin Konrad?”

“Oh yes, I remember Konrad well enough,” said the general, absently, for he was still regarding the younger Natalie, who sat on the bench, her hands clasped, her head bent down.  “Poor fellow, he came to a sad end at last; but he always carried his life in his hands, and with a gay heart too.”

“But you remember, do you not, something before that?” the mother said, with some color coming into her face.  “You remember how my husband had him chosen—­and I myself appealed—­and you, Stefan, you were among the first to say that the Society must inquire—­”

“Ah, but that was different, Natalie.  You know why it was that that commission had to be reversed.”

“Do I know?  Yes.  What else have I had to think about these sixteen or seventeen years since my child was separated from me?” she said, sadly.  “And perhaps I have grown suspicious; perhaps I have grown mad to think that what has happened once might happen again.”

“What?” he said, turning his clear blue eyes suddenly on her.

She did not flinch.

“Consider the circumstances, Stefan, and say whether one has no reason to suspect.  The Englishman, this Mr. Brand, loves Natalie; she loves him in return; my husband refuses his consent to the marriage; and yet they meet in opposition to his wishes.  Then there is another thing that I cannot so well explain, but it is something about a request on my husband’s part that Mr. Brand, who is a man of wealth, should accept a certain offer, and give over his property to the funds of the Society.”

“I understand perfectly,” her companion said, calmly.  “Well?”