“I think it is famous for something more than that,” said the girl, with just a touch of color in the beautiful face; for she was not accustomed to speak before so many people.  “Is it not more famous for its freedom?  It is that that makes the air so sweet to breathe.”

“Well, at all events, you don’t find it very picturesque as compared with other countries.  Evelyn tells me you have travelled a great deal.”

“Perhaps I am not very fond of picturesqueness,” Natalie said, modestly.  “When I am travelling through a country I would rather see plenty of small farms, thriving and prosperous, than splendid ruins that tell only of oppression and extravagance, and the fierceness of war.”

No one spoke; so she made bold to continue—­but she addressed Lady Evelyn only.

“No doubt it is very picturesque, as you go up the Rhine, or across the See Kreis, or through the Lombard plains, to see every height crowned with its castle.  Yes, one cannot help admiring.  They are like beautiful flowers that have blossomed up from the valleys and the plains below.  But who tilled the land, that these should grow there on every height?  Are you not forced to think of the toiling wretches who labored and labored to carry stone by stone up the crest of the hill?  They did not get much enjoyment out of the grandeur and picturesqueness of the castles.”

“But they gave that labor for their own protection,” Lady Evelyn said, with a smile.  “The great lords and barons were their protectors.”

“The great lords and barons said so, at least,” said the girl, without any smile at all, “and I suppose the peasantry believed them; and were quite willing to leave their vineyards and go and shed their blood whenever the great lords and barons quarrelled among themselves.”

“Well said! well said!” Brand exclaimed, quickly; though, indeed, this calm, gentle-eyed, self-possessed girl was in no need of any champion.

“I am afraid you are a great Radical, Miss Lind,” said Lady Evelyn.

“Perhaps it is your English air, Lady Evelyn,” said the girl, with a smile.

Lord Evelyn’s mother, notwithstanding her impassive, unimaginative nature, soon began to betray a decided interest in this new guest, and even something more.  She was attracted, to begin with, by the singular beauty of the young Hungarian lady, which was foreign-looking, unusual, picturesque.  She was struck by her perfect self-possession, and by the ease and grace of her manner, which was rather that of a mature woman than of a girl of nineteen.  But most of all she was interested in her odd talk and opinions, which she expressed with such absolute simplicity and frankness.  Was it, Lady Evelyn asked herself, that the girl had been brought up so much in the society of men—­that she had neither mother nor sisters—­that she spoke of politics and such matters as if it the most natural thing in the world for women, of whatever age, to consider them as of first importance?