However, by dint of much persuasion, Calabressa got Granaglia to take in a message to Von Zoesch.  And, sure enough, his anticipations were correct; the good-natured, bluff old soldier made his appearance, and seemed glad to get a breath of fresh air for a minute or two.

“Well, well, Calabressa, what is it now?  Are you not all satisfied? the young lady with her sweetheart, and all that?  You rogue! you guessed pretty rightly; to tell them the news was no light matter; but by-and-by she will become reconciled.  Her lover is to be envied; she is a beautiful child, and she has courage.  Well, are they not satisfied?”

“I crave your pardon, Excellency, for intruding upon you,” Calabressa said, in a sort of constrained voice.  “It is my own affair that brings me here.  I shall not waste your time.  Your Excellency, I claim to be substitute for Ferdinand Lind.”

The tall soldier burst out laughing.

“What the devil is the matter with you, Calabressa; have you gone mad?”

For a second Calabressa stood silent; his eyes downcast; his fingers working nervously with the cap he held in his hands.

“Your Excellency,” he said, as if struggling to repress some emotion, “it is a simple matter.  I have been to see the beautiful child you speak of; I addressed her, in the hall of the hotel; she turned away from me, shuddering, as if I were a murderer—­from me, who loves her more than I love life.  Oh, your Excellency, do not smile at it; it is not a girlish caprice; she has a noble heart; it is not a little thing that would make her cruel.  I know what she thinks—­that I have been the means of procuring her father’s death.  Be it so.  I will give her father his life again.  Take mine—­what do I care?”

“Nonsense, nonsense, my Calabressa.  The girl has bewitched you.  One must talk to her.  Take your life in exchange for that of Lind?  Pooh!  We cannot send good men after bad; you are too valuable to us; whereas he, if he were released, could be of no more use at all.  It is a generous notion on your part, friend Calabressa, but it is quixotic; moreover, impossible.”

“You forget, Excellency, that I can claim it,” said Calabressa, firmly.  “Under Article V. I can claim to be the substitute of Ferdinand Lind.  Your Excellency yourself has not the power to refuse me.  I call upon you to release Lind from the death-penalty:  to-morrow I will take his place; then you can send a message to—­to Natalie Berezolyi’s daughter, that, if I have wronged her, I have made amends.”

Von Zoesch grew more serious; he eyed Calabressa curiously.  The elder man stood there trembling a little with nervous excitement, but with a firm look on his face:  there was no doubt about his resolve.

“Friend Calabressa,” said Von Zoesch, in a kindly way, “it seems as if you had transferred your old love for Natalie Berezolyi to Natalie’s daughter, only with double intensity; but, you see, we must not allow you to sacrifice yourself merely because a girl turns her heel on you.  It is not to be thought of.  We cannot afford to lose you; besides, it is monstrous that the innocent should suffer, and the guilty go free—­”