rt, and glancing around
with a feeling of solitude and desertion, she saw nothing but curious
faces and strange, staring eyes! She, also, was repudiated and homeless,
and an excessive longing for the distant unknown home of her childhood
now took possession of her.

Perhaps Carlo had read her thoughts upon her brow; low and plaintive
melodies poured from his harp, as it were the rustling murmurs of
far-off remembrances, the sighing and sobbing of a yearning heart.
And Natalie, carried away by these tones, forgetful of all around her,
mindful only of the happiness of her childhood and of the lady she had
so dearly loved, began to sing.

Of what she said and what she sang she was unconscious. She stood there
as if elevated by inward inspiration; her eyes flashed as she stared
into the far distance, and the images she saw there caused her to smile
and weep at the same time; all the glow, all the childlike purity of her
soul, came in words from her lips in a stream of inspiration, of painful
ecstasy!

She saw nothing, heard nothing! She saw not the ladies weeping with
emotion, not the rapturous glances of the men; she had entirely
forgotten all those strange, unknown people; and when the constantly
increasing storm of applause finally reminded her of them, it was all
over with her inspiration--the words died upon her lips, and with a sad
smile she hastened to the conclusion.

And now arose a shout and an outbreak of rapture which caused Natalie to
tremble with anxious timidity. She cast a searching glance around her;
it seemed to her that Paulo must come to her relief, that he must rescue
and redeem her from the enthusiastic and flattering men who surrounded
her. She saw him not! Where was Paulo, where was Carlo? These
inquisitive lord cardinals had formed a circle around her, she seemed
to herself a prisoner; it alarmed her to thus find herself the central
point of all these attractions.

Not far from her stood Corilla, with glowing cheeks and anger-flashing
eyes.

"I will avenge this affront or die!" thought she, as, grasping Albani's
hand with convulsive violence, she whispered to him: "Free me from this
woman, and I will realize all your wishes."

Francesco Albani smiled. "Then you are mine, Corilla, and no power on
earth shall take you from me. That child is dead. See, see how she makes
herself a path through the crowd--ah, it is too sultry for her here in
the hall, she approaches the garden door, she slips ou