“Oh yes, signore,” said she; and instead of showing any shamefacedness, she turned toward him and regarded him with the fearless, soft dark eyes.  “How could you think otherwise?  And he is so brave and noble:  he is not afraid of sacrificing those things that the English put such store by—­”

“English?” said Calabressa.

“Yes,” said Natalie; and now she looked down.

“And what does your heart say?”

She spoke very gently in reply.

“Signor, I have not answered him yet; you cannot expect me to answer you.”

“A la bonne heure!  Little traitress, to say she has no sweethearts!  Happy Englishman!  What, then, do I distress you?  It is not so simple!  It is an embarrassment, this proposal that he has made to you!  But I will not trouble you further with my questions, little daughter:  how can an old jail-bird like myself understand a young linnet-thing that has always been flying and fluttering about in happiness and the free air?  Enfin, let us go!  I perceive your little maid is tired of standing and staring; perhaps it is time for you to go back.”

She rose, and the three of them slowly proceeded along the gravelled path.

“Your father does not return until next week:  must I wait a whole week in this desert of a town before seeing you again, petite?”

“Oh no,” said Natalie, smiling; “that is not necessary.  If my papa were here now he would certainly ask you to dine with us to-night; may I do so in his place?  You will not find much amusement; but Madame Potecki—­you knew her husband, perhaps?”

“Potecki the Pole, who was killed?”

“Yes.  She will play a little music for you.  But there are so many amusements in London, perhaps you would rather not spend your evening with two poor solitary creatures like us.”

“My little daughter, to hear you speak, that is all I want; it takes twenty years away from my life; I do not know whether to laugh or to cry.  But courage! we will put a good face on our little griefs.  This evening—­this evening I will pretend to myself something—­I am going to live my old life over again—­for an hour; I will blow a horn as soon as I have crossed the Erlau, and they will hear it up at the big house among the pines, where the lights are shining through the dark, and they will send a servant down to open the gates; and you will appear at the hall-door, and say, ’Signor Calabressa, why do you make such a noise to awaken the dogs?’ And I will say, ’Dear Miss Berezolyi, the pine-woods are frightfully dark; may I not scare away the ghosts?”

“It was my mother who received you,” the girl said, in a low voice.

“It was Natalie then; to-night it will be Natalushka.”

He spoke lightly, so as not to make these reminiscences too serious.  But the conjunction of the two names seemed suddenly to startle the girl.  She stopped, and looked him in the face.

“It was you, then,” she said, “who sent me the locket?”