usic; and she had more than once
expressed in Brand's hearing her opinion of the conduct of the ladies
and gentlemen who make an opera, or a concert, or a play a mere adjunct
to their own foolish laughter and tittle-tattle. She recognized the
serious aims of a great artist; she listened with deep attention and
respect; she could talk idly elsewhere and at other times. And so there
was scarcely a word said--except of involuntary admiration--as the opera
proceeded. But in the scene where the disguised wife discovers her
husband in the prison--where, as Pizarro is about to stab him, she
flings herself between them to protect him--Brand could see that Natalie
Lind was fast losing her manner of calm and critical attention, and
yielding to a profounder emotion. When Leonora reveals herself to her
husband, and swears that she will save him, even such a juncture, from
his vindictive enemy--

"Si, si, mio dolce amico,
La tua Eleonora ti salvera;
Affronto il suo furor!"

the girl gave a slight convulsive sob, and her hands were involuntarily
clasped. Then, as every one knows, Leonora draws a pistol from her bosom
and confronts the tyrant; a trumpet is heard in the distance; relief is
near; and the act winds up with the joyful duet between the released
husband and the courageous wife--"_Destin, destin ormai felice!_"

Here it was that Calabressa proposed he should escort Madame Potecki to
the cooler air of the large saloon; and madame, who had been young
herself, and guessed that the lovers might like to be alone for a few
minutes, instantly and graciously acquiesced. But Natalie rose also, a
little quickly, and said that Madame Potecki and herself would be glad
to have some coffee; and could that be got in the saloon?

Madame Potecki and her companion led the way; but then Brand put his
hand on the arm of Natalie and detained her.

"Natalie!" he said, in a low and hurried voice, "I am going away
to-morrow. I don't know when I shall see you again. Surely you will give
me some assurance--some promise, something I can repeat to myself.
Natalie, I know the value of what I am asking; you will give yourself to
me?"

She stood by the half-shut door, pale, irresolute, and yet outwardly
calm. Her eyes were cast down; she held her fan firmly with both hands.

"Natalie, are you afraid to answer?"

Then the young Hungarian girl raised her eyes, and bravely regarded him,
though her face was still pale and apprehensive.