ian letter in his pocket with apparent
indifference.

"Bernis?" asked Natalie. "Is not that the French Cardinal, who is at
the same time a poet, and whom the pope, the great Ganganelli, so dearly
loves?"

"The same," said Paulo, "and besides, the same Cardinal Bernis whom
I had months ago promised to allow the pleasure of making your
acquaintance! He already knows you, Natalie, although he has never yet
seen your fair face; he knows you from what I have told him."

"Oh, let us quickly see what the good cardinal writes!" exclaimed
Natalie, clapping her hands with the impatience of a child.

Count Paulo smilingly broke the seal and read the letter.

"You are in truth a witch," said he; "you must have some genius in your
service, who listens to every wish you express, in order to fulfil it
without delay! This letter contains an invitation from the cardinal. He
gives a great entertainment to-morrow, and begs of me that I will bring
you to it. The improvisatrice Corilla will also be there!"

"Oh, then I shall see her!" exclaimed the delighted young maiden. "At
length I shall see a poetess! For we shall go to this entertainment,
shall we not, Paulo?"

The count thoughtfully cast down his eyes, and his hand involuntarily
sought the letter in his pocket. An expression of deep care and anxiety
was visible on his features, and Cecil seemed to divine the thoughts of
his master, for he also looked anxious, and a deep sigh escaped from his
breast.--Natalie perceived nothing of all this! She was wholly occupied
by the thought of seeing Corilla, the great improvisatrice, of whom
Carlo, Natalie's music-teacher, had told her so much, and whose fame was
sounded by children and adults in all the streets of Rome.

"We go to this festival, do we not, Paulo?" repeated she, as the count
still continued silent.

Recovering from his abstraction, he said: "Yes, we will go! It is time
that my Natalie was introduced into this circle of influential Romans,
that she may gain friends among people of importance, who may watch over
and protect her when I no longer can!"

"You will, then, leave me?" cried the young maiden, turning pale and
anxiously grasping the count's arm. "No, Paulo, you cannot do that!
Would you leave me because I, a foolish child, desired to go to this
festival, and was no longer contented with our dear and beautiful
solitude? That was wrong in me, Paulo, as I now plainly see, and I
desire it no longer! Oh, we will prep