ntion to his child. Adelheid returned his evident solicitude by
a smile of love, but its painful expression was so unequivocal as to
heighten the baron's fears.

"Art not well, love? It cannot be that we have been deceived--that some
peasant's daughter is thought worthy to supplant thee? Ha!--Signor
Grimaldi, this matter begins, in sooth, to seem offensive;--but, old as I
am--Well, we shall never know the truth, unless thou speakest
frankly--this is a rare business, after all, Gaetano--that a daughter of
mine should be repulsed by a hind!"

Adelheid made an imploring gesture for her father to forbear, while she
resumed her seat from farther inability to stand. The two anxious old men
followed her example, in wondering silence.

"Thou dost both the honor and modesty of Sigismund great injustice,
father;" resumed the maiden, after a pause, and speaking with a calmness
of manner that surprised even herself. "If thou and this excellent and
tried friend will give me your attention for a few minutes, nothing shall
be concealed."

Her companions listened in wonder, for they plainly saw that the matter
was more grave than either had at first imagined. Adelheid paused again,
to summon force for the ungrateful duty, and then she succinctly, but
clearly, related the substance of Sigismund's communication. Both the
listeners eagerly caught each syllable that fell from the quivering lips
of the maiden, for she trembled, notwithstanding a struggle to be calm
that was almost superhuman, and when her voice ceased they gazed at each
other like men suddenly astounded by some dire and totally unexpected
calamity. The baron, in truth, could scarcely believe that he had not been
deceived by a defective hearing, for age had begun a little to impair that
useful faculty, while his friend admitted the words as one receives
impressions of the most revolting and disheartening nature.

"This is a damnable and fearful fact!" muttered the latter, when Adelheid
had altogether ceased to speak.

"Did she say that Sigismund is the son of Balthazar, the public headsman
of the canton!" asked the father of his friend, in the way that one
reluctantly assures himself of some half-comprehended and unwelcome
truth,--"of Balthazar--of that family accursed!"

"Such is the parentage it hath been the will of God to bestow on the
preserver of our lives," meekly answered Adelheid.

"Hath the villain dared to steal into my family-circle, concealing this
disg