"Natalie," the mother said gently, "have I done wrong to put these
suspicions into your mind? Have I done wrong to put you into antagonism
with your father? My child I cannot see you suffer without revealing to
you what I imagine may be the cause--even if it were impossible to fight
against it--even if one can only shudder at the cruelty of which some
are capable: we can pray God to give us resignation."

Natalie Lind was not listening at all; her face was white, her lips
firm, her eyes fixed.

"Mother," she said at length, in a low voice, and speaking as if she
were weighing each word, "if you think the story is being told again,
why should it not be carried out? You appealed, to save the life of one
who loved you. And I--why may not I also?"

"Oh, child, child!" the mother cried in terror, laying hold of her arm.
"Do not think of it: anything but that! You do not know how terrible
your father is when his anger is aroused: look at what I have suffered.
Natalushka, I will not have you lead the life that I have led; you must
not, you dare not, interfere!"

The girl put her hand aside, and sprung to her feet. No longer was she
white of face. The blood of the Berezolyis was in her cheeks; her eyes
were dilated; her voice was proud and indignant.

"And I," she said, "if this is true--if this is possible--Oh, do you
think I am going to see a brave man sent to his death, shamelessly,
cruelly, and not do what I can to save him? It is not for you, mother,
it is not for one who bears the name that you bear to tell me to be
afraid. What I did fear was to live, with him dead. Now--"

The mother had risen quickly to her feet also, and sought to hold her
daughter's hands.

"For the sake of Heaven, Natalushka!" she pleaded. "You are running into
a terrible danger--"

"Do I care, mother? Do I look as if I cared?" she said, proudly.

"And for no purpose, Natalushka; you will only bring down on yourself
the fury of your father, and he will make your life as miserable as he
has made mine. And what can you do, child? what can you do but bring
ruin on yourself? You are powerless: you have no influence with those in
authority as I at one time had. You do not know them: how can you reach
them?"

"You forget, mother," the girl said, triumphantly; "was it not you
yourself who asked me if I had ever heard of one Bartolotti?"

The mother uttered a slight cry of alarm.

"No, no, Natalushka, I beg of you--"

The girl took her mothe