ravine. They retired. I strode up to
the Bulgarian, who remained as motionless as a statue.

"'Give you good-evening, cavalier. What is your purpose to-night?'

"'To chastise insolence and punish presumption! What is yours?'

"'To rescue innocence and beauty from the persecution of overweening
power!'

"'Indeed! any thing else?'

"'Yes, to avenge the fate of those who trusted, and yet died before
their time. How was it with Clara of Gandersfeldt? Fell she not by thy
hand?'

"'Englishman--thou liest!'

"'Bulgarian--thou art a villain!'

"The duke gnashed his teeth. For a moment his hand clutched at the hilt
of his poniard, but he suddenly withdrew it.

"'I had thought to have dealt otherwise with thee,' he said, 'but thou
hast dared to come between the lion and his bride. Englishman--hast thou
courage to make good thy injurious words with aught else but the
tongue?'

"'I am the last of the race of Mandeville!'

"'Enough. I might well have left the chastising of thee to a meaner
hand, and yet--for that thou art a bold fellow--I will meet thee. Dost
thou know the eastern gate?'

"'Well.'

"'A mile beyond it there is a clump of trees and a fair meadow land. The
moon will be up in three hours: light enough for men who are determined
on their work. Dost thou understand me--three hours hence on horseback,
with the sword, alone?'

"'Can I trust thee, Bulgarian?--no treachery?'

"'I am a Wallachian and a duke!'

"'Enough said. I shall be there;' and we parted.

"I flew back to Amalia. She was terribly agitated. In vain did I attempt
to calm her with assurances that all was well. She insisted upon knowing
the whole particulars of my interview with her dreaded cousin of
Kalbs-Braten, and at last I told her without reserve.

"'You must not go, Leopold,' she cried, 'indeed you must not. You do not
know this Albrecht. Hard of heart and determined of purpose, there are
no means which he will not use in order to compass his revenge. Believe
not that he will meet you alone: were it so, I should have little dread.
But Black Stanislaus will be there, and strong Slavata, and Martinitz
with all his Hulans! They will murder you, my Leopold! shed your young
blood like water; or, if they dare not do that for fear of the Austrian
vengeance, they will hurry you across the frontier to some dreary
fortress, where you will pine in chains, and grow prematurely grey,
far--far from your poor Amalia! Oh, were I to lose you, Leop