art was proud and indignant no longer; it had grown numbed. The
air from the sea felt cold.

"I am helpless, signore," she murmured; "I do not know what the cause
is. I do not know what justification you have for taking this man's
life."

He did not answer that. He said,

"Perhaps, indeed, it is not those who are called on to sacrifice their
life for the general good who suffer most. They can console themselves
with thinking of the result. It is their friends--those dearest to
them--who suffer, and who many a time would no doubt be glad to become
their substitutes. It is true that we--that is, that many
associations--recognize the principle of the vicarious performance of
duties and punishments; but not any one yet has permitted a woman to
become substitute for a man."

"What made you think of that, signore?" she asked, regarding him.

"I have known some cases," he said, evasively, "where such an offer, I
think, would have been made."

"It could not be accepted?"

"Oh no."

"Not even by the power that is the greatest in Europe?" she said,
bitterly--"that is invincible and all-generous? Oh, signore, you are too
modest in your pretensions! And the Berezolyis--they have done nothing,
then, in former days to entitle them to consideration; they are but as
anybody in the crowd who might come forward and intercede for a friend;
they have no old associates, then, and companions in this Society, that
they cannot have this one thing granted them--that they cannot get this
one man's life spared to him! Signore, your representatives mistake your
powers; more than that, they mistake the strength of your memory, and
your friendship!"

The red face of the bullet-headed general grew redder still, but not
with anger.

"Signorina," he said, evidently greatly embarrassed, "you humiliate me.
You--you do not know what you ask--"

He had led her back to the garden-seat; they had both sat down; he did
not notice how her bosom was struggling with emotion.

"You ask me to interfere--to commit an act of injustice--"

"Oh, signore, signore, this is what I ask!" she cried, quite overcome;
and she fell at his feet, and put her clasped hands on his knees, and
broke into a wild fit of crying; "this is what I ask of you,
signore--this is what I beg from you on my knees--I ask you to give me
the life of--of my betrothed!"

She buried her face in her hands; her frame was shaken with her sobs.

"Little daughter," said he, greatly agit