l call her until she
herself chooses to reveal more, had rushed to her rooms, her heart
almost overwhelmed by a new and dreadful burden.

The tidings she had left Lucerne to know, whose bearer was the
black-bearded gentleman, which had so aroused Paul's curiosity, were
simply these. Her hand was sought in marriage.

Truly not such news as ought to make a maiden weep, you say, and yet
what base political ends have not been served through the holy offices
of the marriage service. And when a suit bears the approbation of
one's sovereign, is it not more nearly a command?

The cousin of our beautiful Natalie, one Prince Boris Ivanovitch, had
long been a persistent suitor. What booted it that she would have none
of his attentions? Was he not an heir apparent, and should a girl's
whim, her likes or dislikes, stand in the way of a powerful union? The
Tsar of all the Russias had given him official sanction; to Prince
Boris, and alas! to Natalie, the ceremony was as good as performed.

But what of the desires of her own tender girlish heart, her hopes,
her sacred mission? Were all to be sacrificed on the altar of a great
political alliance? Natalie cast herself on a divan in a paroxysm of
grief and rage, and the imperial note, heavy with a gold crest and
seals, fluttered in tiny pieces on the floor. In vain her maid
essayed to comfort her. This latest blow was too heavy. Why did Boris
not let her give him the vast estates, why must he insist upon
_her_?--her love he never had, never could have. Once more the couch
shook with her choking sobs.

After the first dreadful shock was over, Natalie calmed herself, and
the innate strength, the quiet determination which had carried her so
far on her mission asserted itself. She would obey--the thought of
disobedience cannot come to faithful subjects--but there was no haste.
Time can accomplish much.

Then, as the events of the past few days flitted before her mental
vision there crept into her cheeks a faint tinge of colour as she
thought of Paul. "Ah, my beloved--yes, beloved, though you know it
not. I must see you once more." And the sudden memory of the hour
when she last saw him so eager, so loving, all the fine lines of his
virile strength thrown on the black screen of darkness, by the light
of the burning summer house, mantled her cheek anew in crimson.

He of all the men she had ever seen was the one most worth loving. And
then in confusion again at this admission, deep tho