ven grant that there be no need. Why should
harm come to one who is so beautiful and so gentle?"

"My mother--was she happy?" she said quickly.

"Little daughter," said he, sharply, and he threw away her hand, "if you
ask me any more questions about your mother you will make my heart
bleed. Do you not understand so simple a thing as that, you who claim
to be a woman? You have been stabbing me. Come, come: _allons!_--let us
talk of something else--of your friend who wishes to be more than a
friend--you wicked little one, who have no sweetheart! And what are
those fools of English about? What? But tell me--is he one of us?"

"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 fr