y father of Christendom,
her pope, and his cardinals!

The applause, the general delight, was now unbounded; cardinals were to
be seen weeping with enthusiasm and joy; others with heartfelt emotion
were showering words of blessing upon the improvisatrice, and all
pressed toward the tribune in order to accompany her down the steps and
in among the company.

A sudden thought of rescue had like a flash of lightning arisen in
Carlo's soul.

"Natalie must first be completely separated from this society, and then
I will seek this man and render him incapable of mischief!" thought he.

By main strength he made himself a path through the crowd surrounding
Corilla, and now stood near Cardinal Bernis, at whose side still
remained Natalie and Count Paulo.

"You have struck the lyre like an Apollo," exclaimed the cardinal to the
singer.

Carlo bowed with a smile, and hastily said: "And are you ignorant,
your eminence, that a much greater poetess and improvisatrice than our
Corilla is in your society?"

The cardinal smilingly threatened him with his finger. "Poor Carlo, has
it already come to this?" said he. "You are jealous of our delight in
Corilla, and would lessen her fame, that you may make her more your
own!"

"I speak the truth," said Carlo; "a poetess is among us whom the
muses themselves have consecrated, an improvisatrice, not of human
composition, but by the grace of God, to whom the angels whisper the
rhymes, and the muses the ideas!"

"And who, then, is this divinely-gifted artist, this consecrated
daughter of the muses?" wonderingly asked the cardinal.

Carlo indicated Natalie, and bowed to the ground before her.

"Princess Tartaroff?" asked the cardinal, with astonishment.

"That she is a princess, I know not," said Carlo, "but I am quite
certain she is a poetess!"

What was it that at this moment stirred the soul of the young maiden?
She now felt a pride, a blessed joy, and yet she had previously felt so
sad at Corilla's triumph! It seemed as if enthusiasm raised its wings in
her, as if the word, the right word, pressed to her lips, as if she must
utter in song her rejoicings and lamentings for her simultaneously
felt pleasures and pains! A pure and genuine child of Nature, she felt
herself the natural impulse to pour out in words, tones, and even in
tears, what agitated her soul, and to which she was unable to give a
name.

Cardinal Bernis had first turned imploringly to Count Paulo, praying for