r. As she now
rose and thoughtfully approached the window, he could no longer contain
himself, and exclaimed in a low tone: "Ruth, Ruth! Do you know me, girl?
It is I--Ulrich!"

She shrank back, putting out her hands with a repellent gesture; but only
for a moment. Then, struggling to maintain her composure, she joyously
uttered his name, and as he rushed into the room, cried "Ulrich!"
"Ulrich!" and no longer able to control her feelings, suffered him to
clasp her to his heart.

She had daily expected him with ardent longing, yet secret dread: for he
was the fierce Eletto, the commander of the insurgents, the bloody foe of
the brave nation she loved. But at sight of his face all, all was
forgotten, and she felt nothing but the bliss of being reunited to him
whom she had never, never forgotten, the joy of seeing, feeling that he
loved her.

His heart too was overflowing with passionate delight. Faltering tender
words, he drew her head to his breast, then raised it to press his mouth
to her pure lips. But her intoxication of joy passed away--and before he
could prevent it, she had escaped from his arms, saying sternly: "Not
that, not that. . . . Many a crime lies between us and you."

"No, no!" he eagerly exclaimed. "Are you not near me? Your heart and mine
have belonged to each other since that day in the snow. If my father is
angry because I serve other masters than his, you, yes you, must
reconcile us again. I could stay in Aalst no longer."

"With the mutineers?" she asked sadly. "Ulrich, Ulrich, that you should
return to us thus!"

He again seized her hand, and when she tried to withdraw it, only smiled,
saying with the confidence of a man, who is sure of his cause:

"Cast aside this foolish reserve. To-morrow you will freely give me, not
only one hand, but both. I am not so bad as you think. The fortune of war
flung me under the Spanish flag, and 'whose bread I eat, his song I
sing,' says the soldier. What would you have? I served with honor, and
have done some doughty deeds; let that content you."

This angered Ruth, who resolutely exclaimed:

"No, a thousand times no! You are the Eletto of Aalst, the pillager of
cities, and this cannot be swept aside as easily as the dust from the
floor. I. . . . I am only a feeble girl;--but father, he will never give his
hand to the blood-stained man in Spanish garb! I know him, I know it."

Ulrich's breath came quicker; but he repressed the angry emotion and
replied