dared to renew a former acquaintance, my
daughter would never be so mean, never stoop so low as to welcome him,
for a German girl would never throw away her honor on a Russian boor."

"Father," cried Elise, terrified and forgetting all her prudence, "oh,
father! do not speak so loud."

"Not so loud? Why, then, some one can hear us?" asked Gotzkowsky,
pressing the arm of his daughter. "I will speak loud, I will declare
it aloud. He is a scoundrel who conceals himself in a dastardly and
dishonorable manner, instead of defending himself! a coward who would
put the honor of a maiden in the scale against his own miserable life.
No German would do that. Only a Russian would be base enough to hide
himself, instead of defending his life like a man!"

At this moment the door of the bedroom was violently torn open, and
the Russian colonel appeared on the threshold, his cheeks burning and
his eyes flashing with anger.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE TWO CANNONEERS.

Elise uttered a cry of terror, and stared at her lover with
wide-opened eyes. But Gotzkowsky's countenance was illuminated with a
dark and savage joy. "Ah, at last, then!" said he, letting go the arm
of his daughter, and grasping his sword.

But the colonel advanced proudly and collectedly toward him. "Here am
I, sir," said he; "here am I, to defend myself and avenge an insult."

"I have driven you out of your hiding-place, as the fox draws the
badger out of his kennel," cried Gotzkowsky, with derisive laughter,
purposely calculated to irritate the anger of the young officer to the
highest pitch.

The two men stood opposite to each other, and gazed at one another
with faces full of hatred and rage. Elise threw herself between them,
and falling on her knees before her father, exclaimed, "Kill me,
father; save your honor--kill me!"

But Gotzkowsky slung her pitilessly aside. "Away!" cried he, roughly.
"What do you here? Make room for us! Here is a man with whom I can
fight for my honor."

Feodor stepped quickly toward Elise, who was still kneeling on the
floor, wringing her hands, and sobbing from intense pain. He raised
her up, and whispering a few words in her ear, led her to the sofa.
He then turned to Gotzkowsky, and said, "Your honor is pure and
unspotted, sir! Whatever you may think of me, you must respect the
virtue of your daughter. She is innocent."

"Innocent," cried Gotzkowsky derisively, "innocent! why,