The Daughter of an Empress

"And was not that a good prophecy?" asked Paulo. "Has it not been

fulfilled? Are you not happy?"

"I should be so," sighed Natalie, "could I avoid thinking so often of

that past! Those words which you then spoke to me were the last I ever

heard in that language, which I had always spoken until then, but of

which I know not the name! From that hour you spoke to me in an unknown

tongue, and I felt like a poor deserted orphan, from whom was taken her

last possession, her language!"

"And yet whole peoples have been robbed of that last and dearest

possession!" said Paulo, his brow suddenly darkening, "and not, as in

your case, to save life and liberty, but for the purpose of enslaving

and oppressing them."

Natalie, perceiving the sudden sadness of her friend, attempted to

smile, and, grasping his hand, she said: "Come, Paulo, we are naughty children, and vex ourselves with vagaries,

while all nature is so cheerful and so replete with divine beauty. Only

see with what glowing splendor the departing sun rests upon the tops of

the cypresses! Ah, it is nowhere so beautiful as here in my dear garden.

This is my world and my happiness! Sometimes, Paulo, it makes me shudder

to think that the walls surrounding us might suddenly tumble down, and

all the tall houses standing behind them, and all the curious people

lounging in the streets, could then look in upon my paradise! That

must be terrible, and yet Marianne tells me that other people live

differently from us, that their houses are not surrounded by walls, and

that no watchman with dogs drives away troublesome visitors from them.

And yet, she says, they smilingly welcome such inconvenient people,

receiving them with friendly words, while they only thank God when they

finally go and leave the occupants in peace. Is it then true, Paulo,

that people can be so false to each other, and that those who live in

the world never dare to speak as they think?"

"It is, alas! but too true, Natalie," said Paulo, with a sad smile.

"Then never let me become acquainted with such a world," said the young

maiden, clinging to Paulo's arm. "Let me always remain here in our

solitude, which none but good people can share with us. For Marianne is

good, as also Cecil, your servant; and Carlo--oh, Carlo would give his

life for me. He is not false, like other people; I can confide in him."

"Think you so!" asked Paulo, looking deep into her eyes with a

scrutinizing glance.

She bore his glances with a cheerful and unembarrassed smile, and a

roguish nod of her little head.

"You must certainly wish to paint me again, that you look at me so

earnestly. No, Paulo, I will not sit to you again, you paint me much

too handsome; you make an angel of me, while I am yet only a poor little

thing, who lives but by your mercy, and does not even know her own

name!"