yes were gazing dreamily into vacancy, and the Eletto now saw her
beautiful, calm, noble face. He did not disturb her, for it seemed as if
he could never weary of comparing her features with the fadeless image
his memory had treasured during all the vicissitudes of life.

Never, not even in Italy, had he beheld a nobler countenance. Philipp
was right. There was something royal in her bearing. This was the wife
of his dreams, the proud woman, with whom the Eletto desired to share
power and grandeur. And he had already held her once in his arms! It
seemed as if it were only yesterday. His heart throbbed higher and
higher. As she now rose and thoughtfully approached the window, he could
no longer contain himself, and exclaimed in a low tone: "Ruth, Ruth! Do
you know me, girl? It is I--Ulrich!"

She shrank back, putting out her hands with a repellent gesture; but
only for a moment. Then, struggling to maintain her composure, she
joyously uttered his name, and as he rushed into the room, cried
"Ulrich!" "Ulrich!" and no longer able to control her feelings, suffered
him to clasp her to his heart.

She had daily expected him with ardent longing, yet secret dread: for he
was the fierce Eletto, the commander of the insurgents, the bloody foe
of the brave nation she loved. But at sight of his face all, all was
forgotten, and she felt nothing but the bliss of being reunited to him
whom she had never, never forgotten, the joy of seeing, feeling that he
loved her.

His heart too was overflowing with passionate delight. Faltering tender
words, he drew her head to his breast, then raised it to press his mouth
to her pure lips. But her intoxication of joy passed away--and before
he could prevent it, she had escaped from his arms, saying sternly: "Not
that, not that.... Many a crime lies between us and you."

"No, no!" he eagerly exclaimed. "Are you not near me? Your heart and
mine have belonged to each other since that day in the snow. If my
father is angry because I serve other masters than his, you, yes you,
must reconcile us again. I could stay in Aalst no longer."

"With the mutineers?" she asked sadly. "Ulrich, Ulrich, that you should
return to us thus!"

He again seized her hand, and when she tried to withdraw it, only
smiled, saying with the confidence of a man, who is sure of his cause:

"Cast aside this foolish reserve. To-morrow you will freely give me, not
only one hand, but both. I am not so bad as you think. The fo