e to her of his love; he informed her of his former life, his
poverty, his want, his connection with Corilla, whom he had quitted in
order to devote himself wholly to her, to obey, serve, and worship
her all his life, and, if necessary, to die for her! "But you," he
despairingly said, "you know not love! Your heart is cold for earthly
love; like the angels in heaven, you love only the good and the sublime,
you love mankind collectively, but not the individual. Ah, Natalie, you
have the heart of an angel, but not the heart of a woman!"

The young maiden had half dreamingly listened to him, her hand leaned
back and her glance directed toward the heavens. She now smiled, and,
with an inimitable grace, laying her hand upon her bosom, said in a very
low tone: "And yet I feel that a woman's heart is beating there. But it
sleeps! Who will one day come to awaken it?"

Carlo did not understand these low whispered words; he understood only
his own passion, his own consuming glow. And anew he commenced his
love-plainings, described to her the torments and fierce joys of
an unreturned love, which is yet too strong and overpowering to be
suppressed. And Natalie listened to him with a dreamy thoughtfulness.
His words sounded in her ears like a wonderful song from a strange,
distant world which she knew not, but the description of which filled
her heart with a sweet longing, and she could have wept, without knowing
whether it was for sorrow or joy.

"Thus, Natalie," at length said Carlo, entirely exhausted and pale with
emotion--"thus I love you. You must sometime have learned it, and
have known that even angels cannot mingle with mortals unloved and
unpunished. I should finally have been compelled to tell you that you
might torture no longer, in cruel ignorance; that you, learning to
understand your own heart, might tell me whether I have to hope, or only
to fear!"

"Poor Carlo!" murmured Natalie. "You love me, but I do not love you!
This has even now become clear to me; and while you have so glowingly
described the passion, I have for the first time comprehended that I yet
know nothing of that love, and that I can never learn it of you! This is
a misfortune, Carlo, but as we cannot change, we must submit to it."

Carlo drooped his head and sighed. He had no answer to make, and only
murmuringly repeated her words: "Yes, we must submit to it!"

"And why can we not?" she almost cheerfully asked, with that childlike
innocence whic