orphans.

"And father was as good as he was brave, Dagobert."

"Good, my children? Yes, I should say so!--He could bend a horse-shoe in
his hand as you would bend a card, and the day he was taken prisoner
he had cut down the Prussian artillerymen on their very cannon. With
strength and courage like that, how could he be otherwise than good? It
is then about nineteen years ago, not far from this place--on the spot
I showed you before we arrived at the village--that the general,
dangerously wounded, fell from his horse. I was following him at
the time, and ran to his assistance. Five minutes after we were made
prisoners--and by whom think you?--by a Frenchman."

"A Frenchman?"

"Yes, an emigrant marquis, a colonel in the service of Russia," answered
Dagobert, with bitterness. "And so, when this marquis advanced towards
us, and said to the general: 'Surrender, sir, to a countryman!'--'A
Frenchman, who fights against France,' replied the general, 'is no
longer my countryman; he is a traitor, and I'd never surrender to a
traitor!' And, wounded though he was, he dragged himself up to a Russian
grenadier, and delivered him his sabre, saying: 'I surrender to you my
brave fellow!' The marquis became pale with rage at it."

The orphans looked at each other with pride, and a rich crimson mantled
their cheeks, as they exclaimed: "Oh, our brave father!"

"Ah, those children," said Dagobert, as he proudly twirled his
moustache. "One sees they have soldier's blood in their veins! Well,"
he continued, "we were now prisoners. The general's last horse had been
killed under him; and, to perform the journey, he mounted Jovial, who
had not been wounded that day. We arrived at Warsaw, and there it was
that the general first saw your mother. She was called the Pearl of
Warsaw; that is saying everything. Now he, who admired all that is good
and beautiful, fell in love with her almost immediately; and she loved
him in return; but her parents had promised her to another--and that
other was the same--"

Dagobert was unable to proceed. Rose uttered a piercing cry, and pointed
in terror to the window.

CHAPTER VII. THE TRAVELER.

Upon the cry of the young girl, Dagobert rose abruptly.

"What is the matter, Rose?"

"There--there!" she said, pointing to the window. "I thought I saw a
hand move the pelisse."

She had not concluded these words before Dagobert rushed to the window
and opened it, tearing down the mantle, which had be