he read in his
eyes that he was innocent, for love is confiding, and she loved him.
With a charming smile she extended both hands toward him, and he read
in her looks the words of love and tenderness which her timid lips did
not dare give expression to.

Feodor drew her warmly to his heart. "You believe me," cried he,
passionately; and as he raised her with irresistible strength in his
arms, he murmured low, "Now let us enjoy the sacred hour of happiness
without inquiring what divinity we have to thank for it."

But the instinct of modesty prevailed over love. "No," cried she, as
she struggled out of his arms, trembling with excitement--"no, Feodor,
it is no hour of happiness in which my honor and good name are to be
buried--no hour of happiness when scandal can tell from mouth to mouth
how a German maiden let herself be carried into the Russian camp, and
shamelessly rushed into the arms of dishonor; for so will they tell
it, Feodor. No one will believe that you had no hand in this outrage.
The world never believes in innocence. Whoever is accused is already
condemned, even if the judge's sentence should a thousand times
pronounce him innocent, No, they will point at me with the finger of
scorn, and with an exultant laugh will say to each other, 'Behold the
barefaced woman who deserted to the Russians, and revelled with her
lover, while her native town was groaning amidst blood and tears. Look
at the rich man's child, who is so poor in honor!'"

Deeply moved by her own words, she drew herself up still more in the
power of her dignity and innocence, and gazed at Feodor with flashing
eyes. "Count Feodor von Brenda," cried she, firmly, "will you allow
your bride to be suspected and defamed? that a stain should be allowed
to rest upon the name of her who is to become your wife?"

In her proud excitement she did not perceive the rapid motion of his
lips, nor the blush of shame which suffused his cheeks; she remarked
not that he cast down his eyes and spoke to her with broken and
trembling voice.

"Elise," said he, "you are beside yourself. Your excited fancy paints
every thing to you in sombre colors. Who will dare to defame you? Who
knows that you are here?"

"But the whole world will know it. Scandal has a thousand tongues to
spread evil reports. Feodor, let me go. You say that no one knows that
I am here; then no one will know that I go. Be merciful with me, let
me go!"

"No," cried he, almost rudely. "I will not