. Since neither the priest nor the musician answered
immediately, he continued more quietly:

"Monseigneur Gloria is going to Italy now, and I can accompany him to
Rome as courier. From thence I can easily reach Naples, and live there
on the interest of my savings free from care. My future master will
leave on the 15th, and on the 12th I must be in Antwerp, where I am to
meet him."

The eyes of the priest and the musician met. Wilhelm lacked courage to
seek to withhold the steward from carrying out his plan, but Damianus
summoned up his resolution, laid his hand on the old man's shoulder, and
said:

"If you wait here a few weeks more, Belotti, you will find the true
rest, the peace of a good conscience. The crown of life is promised to
those, who are faithful, unto death. When these sad days are over, it
will be easy to smooth the way to your home. We shall meet again towards
noon, Belotti. If my assistance is necessary, send for me; old Ambrosius
knows where to find me. May God's blessing rest upon you, and if you
will accept it from me, on you also, Meister Wilhelm."

After the priest had left the house, Belotti said, sighing:

"He'll yet force me to yield to his will. He abuses his power over
souls. I'm no saint, and what he asks of me--"

"Is right," said Wilhelm firmly.

"But you don't know what it is to throw away, like a pair of worn-out
shoes, the dearest hope of a long, sad life. And for whom, I ask you,
for whom? Do you know my padrona? Oh! sir, I have experienced in this
house things, which your youth does not dream could be possible. The
young lady has wounded you. Am I right or wrong?"

"You are mistaken, Belotti."

"Really? I am glad for your sake, you are a modest artist, but the
signorina bears the Hoogstraten name, and that is saying everything. Do
you know her father?"

"No, Belotti."

"That's a race-a race! Have you never heard anything of the story of our
signorina's older sister?"

"Has Henrica an older sister?"

"Yes, sir, and when I think of her.--Imagine the signorina, exactly like
our signorina, only taller, more stately, more beautiful."

"Isabella!" exclaimed the musician. A conjecture, which had been aroused
since his conversation with Henrica, appeared to be confirmed; he seized
the steward's arm so suddenly and unexpectedly, that the latter drew
back, and continued eagerly: "What do you know of her? I beseech you,
Belotti, tell me all."

The servant looked up the stairs,