humbly replied Ribas. "The
count, my master, wishes for nothing but to see you in a habitation
worthy of you!"

But what was this luxury, what cared she for these treasures the value
of which she was incapable of estimating, and which were indifferent to
her? She who had no conception of wealth or of money?--she, who knew
not that there was poverty in the world, and who, raised in an Eden
separated from the world, had no idea that hunger had ever made its
appearance within it--she knew only the sorrows of the happy, the
deprivations of the rich; she had never had either to struggle against
real misfortune or to experience real want and deprivation.

Now, indeed, a deeper sorrow had entered into her life; she had lost
her beloved paternal friend, Count Paulo; and Carlo, also, had been torn
from her! That was certainly a more profound sorrow, and she had wept
much for both of them,--but yet that was no real misfortune. She had
never yet lost the whole substance of her life; for those two, however
much she might always have loved them, had nevertheless, not entirely
filled out her life; they had been a part of her happiness, but not that
happiness itself.

And she awaited happiness! She awaited it with ecstasy and devotion,
with feverish hope and glowing desire! She knew not and asked not in
what this happiness was to consist, and yet her heart yearned for it;
she called for this unknown and nameless happiness with a throbbing
bosom and tremulously whispering lips!

She was so much alone, she had so much time for dreaming, and
intoxicating herself with fantastic imaginations! She was surrounded by
a fabulous world, and she was the fairy of that world! But out of that
fabulous world she sometimes longed to be, out of the ideal into the
real; she yearned for truth and actuality. Then she would call Joseph
Ribas to her side and bid him relate to her of that unknown lord, his
master.

He told her of his battles and his heroic deeds, of his wonderful acts
of bravery, and the young maiden tremblingly and shudderingly listened
to him. She feared this man, who had shed streams of blood, and whose
enemies with their dying lips had lauded as the greatest of heroes! And
Joseph Ribas smiled when he saw her turn pale and tremble, and he would
speak to her of his generosity and humanity, of his knighthood and
virtue; he related to her how, on one occasion, at the risk of his life
he had protected and saved a persecuted young maide