e to announce that a strange gentleman was outside,
who earnestly requested to speak to her. Elise trembled, she knew
not why. A prophetic dread seized her soul, and in a voice scarcely
audible she asked the name of her visitor.

"He will not give his name," answered the maid. "He says the name
is of no consequence. He had a letter to deliver from the Countess
Lodoiska, of St. Petersburg."

Elise uttered a cry, and sprang from her seat--she knew all. Her heart
told her that he was near. It must be himself. She felt as if she must
hasten to her father for protection and safety; but her feet refused
to carry her. She trembled so, that she was obliged to hold on to the
arm of a chair to keep herself from falling. She motioned with her
hand to deny him admittance, but Marianne did not understand her; for,
opening the door, she invited the stranger in, and then left him.

And now they stood in presence of each other, silent and
breathless--Elise trembling with excitement and bitter feeling,
wrestling with her own emotion, and deeply abashed by the meeting.
Both uttered an inward prayer--but how different were their two
aspirations!

"Now, God or devil!" thought Feodor, "give my words power, lend
enchantment to my tongue, that I may win Elise!"

Elise prayed to herself: "Have mercy on me, O God! Take this love from
me, or let me die."

In sad silence these two, so long separated, stood opposite to each
other--both hesitating, he knowing that he was guilty, she ashamed of
the consciousness of her love. But finally he succeeded in breaking
the silence. He whispered her name, and as she, alarmed and
shuddering, looked up at him, he stretched out his arms imploringly
toward her. And then she felt, thought, knew nothing but him. She
uttered a cry, and rushed forward to throw herself in his arms. But
suddenly she stopped. Her dream was at an end, and now awaking from
the first ecstasy of seeing him again, she collected herself, and
stood before him in the whole pride and dignity of her offended
honor. She found courage to sacrifice her own heart, and, with cold,
constrained manner, bowing to him, she asked, "Colonel von Brenda,
whom do you wish to see?"

The prince sighed deeply, and let his arms drop. "It is over," said
he; "she no longer loves me!"

Low as these words had been spoken, Elise had seized their purport,
and they touched her to the quick. "What do you wish?" she continued.

"Nothing!" said he, despondently