arriage? Yet will I save thee, for my comrades
are brave and obedient, and I am their leader!'

'O God! thou questionest me about the Past, when not a single hour of
the Present is our own! Dost thou still doubt me? Dost thou not
comprehend me? I have plighted my troth to thee in truth, have sworn
that thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. I will keep my
vow. Thou doubtest me, and must hear all. Interrupt me not. Unsheathe
thy sword; if they approach, I will throw myself into thy arms. When the
time came to tell my father all, to bid him the last good by, he begged
me sore, entreated me with many tears. Thou knowest with what a stern
voice he is wont to command, how instantaneously he is accustomed to be
obeyed; but he veiled the thunders of his wrath with tears, he sighed
and wailed, saying that his only child was armed to strike him to the
heart, to thrust him into the grave. The prince, the son-in-law of his
choice, promised to take our name; he brought his serfs and retainers in
crowds to the castle, and said to the old man: 'Lo, they shall all be
thine!' Kneeling before me, my father placed my hand upon his silver
hair; I felt the blood bounding and throbbing in his bare temples, and
on his grand old forehead lay the dream of his whole life gasping in its
death agonies. The cruel phantom of dominion and power, hateful to me,
clutched me through the heart of the only parent I have ever known. His
life or death was in my hands. A divine power swayed my soul; I resolved
upon self-sacrifice. Consent quivered from my shrinking lips--I gave my
trembling hand to the unknown, unloved, insupportable. Alas! all are
alike abhorrent to me who speak not with thy voice, look not with thy
eyes, breathe not with thy breath, love not with thy soul! The lord of
the castle has now a son in place of his slight girl, and thousands of
warriors stand ready to defend the old Home of our haughty race. Thus am
I free, now may I take leave of all. Again I pledge to thee my faith;
thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. But this people, this
God, this plighted faith--knowest thou by what name it is called
to-day?'

The chieftain throws his arm round her slight form, and looking
anxiously toward the gallery, says: 'Speak and tell me while it is yet
time.'

With low, reproachful tone, she answers: 'Can it be possible that thou
dost not know? And yet there is no room for doubt--it is DEATH! So long
as I remain on earth