Is it not your fault that I have ceased to be a free man, to
have a will of my own, and have become a slave crawling at your feet?
Ah, woe is me, that I ever came to know you! You are an enchantress,
you have made me your hound, and, whining, I lie in the dust before you,
satisfied when you touch me with your foot."

At first, Natalie had listened to him with terror and astonishment; then
an expression of noble pride was to be read upon her features, a glowing
flush flitted over her delicate cheeks, and with flashing eyes and a
heaving bosom she sprang up from her seat. Proud as a queen she rose
erect, the blood of her ancestors awoke in her; she at this moment felt
herself free as an empress, as proud, as secure--and, stretching her
arm toward the outlet of the garden, she said in a determined tone:
"Go, Signor Carlo! Leave me, I tell you! We have no longer any thing in
common with each other!"

Carlo seemed as if awakened from a delirium. Breathless, with
widely-opened eyes, trembling and anxious, he stared at the angry
maiden. He knew nothing of what he had said; he comprehended not
her anger, only his infinite suffering; he was conscious only of his
long-suppressed, long-concealed secret love. And, grasping Natalie's
hands with an imploring expression, he constrained the young maiden,
almost against her will, to remain and reseat herself upon the grassy
bank before which he knelt.

As he looked up to her with those glowing, passionate glances, a maiden
fear and trembling for the first time came over her, an anxiety and
timidity inexplicable to herself! Her delicate, transparent cheeks
paled, tears filled her eyes, and, folding her hands with a childishly
supplicating expression, she said in a low, tremulous tone: "My God,
my God! Have mercy upon me! I am a wholly abandoned, solitary orphan!
Rescue me yet from this trouble and distress, from this terrible
loneliness!"

"Fear nothing, my charming angel," whispered Carlo, "I will be gentle as
a lamb, and patient, very patient in my sorrow; I have sworn it and will
keep my oath! But you must hear me! You must, only this one time, allow
me to express in words my love and my sorrow, my misery and my ecstasy.
Will you allow me this, my lily, my beautiful swan?"

He would have again grasped her hand, but she withdrew it with a proud,
angry glance.

"Speak on," said she, wearily leaning her hand against the myrtle-bush.
"Speak on, I will listen to you!"

And he spok