m!--I thought that all these plans and objects were not worth
so much as one sole smile of her lips and that if she would say to me
'I love thee,' this sweet word would not be too dearly purchased with an
imperial crown. Perhaps, ah, perhaps, I think so yet, but I will never
more suffer myself to be swayed by such thoughts. We must go--Natalie's
happiness demands it. And besides, she will not lack friends and
protectors. It was not without an object that I last evening presented
her to the most notable people of Rome; not without an object that I
consented to her allowing herself as a poetess. They now know her name,
which is repeated with highest praise in every quarter of the city; all
Rome is to-day enthusiastic in her praise, and all Rome will protect
and defend her. Add to which, I shall yet recommend her to the special
protection of Cardinal Bernis!"

"And it was exactly in his house where she was almost murdered!" said
Cecil. "Without that singer, Carlo, she would have been forever lost!
If, then, you would choose a protector for her, let it be Carlo."

Count Paulo's brow darkened. "This singer loves her!" said he.

"Precisely for that reason," smilingly responded Cecil. "One who loves
will best know how to protect her."

Count Paulo made no answer; he continued thoughtfully walking back and
forth. Then he said with decision: "Seal these letters, Cecil. I will
take them to Natalie myself."

"You will, then, see her again?" asked Cecil while folding the letters.
"You will render the parting more painful!"

"I will it!" said Paulo, with decision, and, taking the letters, he left
the room with a firm and resolute step.

He found Natalie in her room. She did not hear him coming, and thus did
not turn to receive him. She was sitting motionless at the window and
dejectedly looking out into the garden, her head supported by her hand.

The events of the previous evening had made a great change in her. She
now felt older, more experienced, more earnest. A dark shadow had passed
over her sun-bright happiness, a dark power had threateningly approached
her; the seriousness of life had been suddenly unfolded to her and
had brushed off the ether-dust of harmless and joyful peace from her
childish soul. The happy child had become a conscious maiden, and new
thoughts, new feelings had sprung up within her. The first tears of
sorrow had, with a mighty creative power, called all these slumbering
blossoms of her heart into