ing eye. She was, as it were, fascinated--happy as in a
dream, and yet conscious of the most delicious waking.

"Do you know me, Elise? Do you recognize your Feodor in spite of his
disguise?"

"Oh, speak again," said she as he ceased. "It is so long since I have
heard your voice!"

"Ten weeks have passed," said he, pressing her still closer to
his heart, "without my being able to see you or convey to you any
information. I could endure it no longer. I said to myself, 'God is
the friend of lovers,' and so I disguised myself as you see me, and
ventured here."

Elise started up and gazed at him anxiously. Awaking from her ecstasy
of delight, she just began to be conscious of the present.

"Good heavens!" she cried, "danger threatens you."

"Death, if I am found here!" said he, solemnly--"death, if it is known
in the Russian camp why I came here!"

She uttered a cry, and clung anxiously to him. "You should not have
come here," said she, trembling. "My God, if my father should find you
here! It was cruel of you to come."

"It would have been more cruel," said he, smiling, "if being so near
you, I had not come at all. I have watched and yearned so long for
this meeting; I have longed so to read in your eyes that you have not
forgotten me! Why do you cast them down, Elise?"

"Because, Feodor, you have already read too much in them, more than my
father would ever forgive."

"Your father was always kind and friendly toward me but at that time I
was his prisoner, now he regards me only as the enemy of his country;
and yet, Elise, my object here is any thing but that of an enemy. It
is not only the desire but also the anxiety of love which brings me
here. Listen to me--my time is limited, and I am lost if I linger
too long; but I had to see you to warn you, to avert the danger which
threatens you, and all of you. Listen, therefore. Your father is the
most powerful and influential man in Berlin. His influence will go far
with the council and the citizens. Entreat him, Elise, to use all his
influence to avert a terrible bloodshed from this city."

Elise shook her head seriously and sadly. Her sweet dream was
dissipated; she was now no longer the dreaming, loving girl, but a
conscious, reasoning, collected woman.

"How can my father do that?" said she, doubtingly.

"He must persuade the citizens to yield without fighting."

"That my father will never do," said she, warmly.

"Yes, he will do it," replied her lover,