Where was she then?

Like her father, Gotzkowsky's daughter sat alone in her room--her
gaze, as his, fixed upon empty space. The sad, melancholy expression
of her face, scarcely tinged with a delicate blush, contrasted
strangely with her splendid dress, her mournful look with the full
wreath of roses which adorned her hair.

Elise was the daughter of the wealthiest man in Berlin, the world
proclaimed her the handsomest maiden, and yet there she sat solitary
in her beautiful chamber, her eyes clouded with tears. Of a sudden she
drew a golden case from her bosom and pressed it with deep feeling to
her lips. Looking timidly at the door she seemed to listen; convinced
that no one approached, she pressed a hidden spring of the medallion;
the golden cover flew open and disclosed the portrait of a handsome
man in Russian uniform.

The young girl contemplated this portrait with a strange mixture
of delight and melancholy, and then, completely overpowered by its
aspect, she approached it to her lips. "Feodor!" murmured she, so
softly that it sounded almost like a sigh, and stretching out the hand
which held the medallion, in order to be able better to contemplate
the picture, she continued--

"Feodor, why did we meet, to be separated forever again? Why did
not Fate allow me to be born as a poor serf upon one of thy estates,
giving to thee the right to possess me, to me the sweet duty of loving
thee? O Heaven, why art thou an enemy of my country, or why am I a
German? Men call me happy; they envy me my father's wealth; they know
not how wretched and forsaken I am."

She bowed her head upon her breast and wept bitterly. Suddenly steps
were heard quite close to her door. She started, and concealed the
medallion quickly in her breast. "My father," murmured she, and
drying her tears she arose to open the door. She was right, it was her
father. He held out his hand to her. She took it and pressed it to her
lips respectfully, but she did not see the look of almost passionate
tenderness with which he regarded her, for she had cast down her eyes
and did not dare to look at him.

"I have come, Elise, to lead you to our garden festival. You will go
with me, my child?"

"I am ready," said she, taking her hat and shawl.

"But why in such a hurry, my child?" asked her father. "Let us leave
these good people yet a little while to themselves. We will still be
in time to witness their games. I would like to stay a quarter of an
hour w