The Daughter of an Empress

Cardinal Bernis now approached with the silver vase. On this occasion he

had taken it upon himself to collect the themes, and with a respectful

bow he handed them to the princess. With a gracious smile she took one

of the papers and unfolded it. The subject was, "Longing for home."

That was a theme well calculated to inspire Natalie, and to reawaken

in her all her longings, sorrows, loves, and remembrances. She suddenly

felt something like a cold shudder in her heart, and glancing around

with a feeling of solitude and desertion, she saw nothing but curious

faces and strange, staring eyes! She, also, was repudiated and homeless,

and an excessive longing for the distant unknown home of her childhood

now took possession of her.

Perhaps Carlo had read her thoughts upon her brow; low and plaintive

melodies poured from his harp, as it were the rustling murmurs of

far-off remembrances, the sighing and sobbing of a yearning heart.

And Natalie, carried away by these tones, forgetful of all around her,

mindful only of the happiness of her childhood and of the lady she had

so dearly loved, began to sing.

Of what she said and what she sang she was unconscious. She stood there

as if elevated by inward inspiration; her eyes flashed as she stared

into the far distance, and the images she saw there caused her to smile

and weep at the same time; all the glow, all the childlike purity of her

soul, came in words from her lips in a stream of inspiration, of painful

ecstasy!

She saw nothing, heard nothing! She saw not the ladies weeping with

emotion, not the rapturous glances of the men; she had entirely

forgotten all those strange, unknown people; and when the constantly

increasing storm of applause finally reminded her of them, it was all

over with her inspiration--the words died upon her lips, and with a sad

smile she hastened to the conclusion.

And now arose a shout and an outbreak of rapture which caused Natalie to

tremble with anxious timidity. She cast a searching glance around her;

it seemed to her that Paulo must come to her relief, that he must rescue

and redeem her from the enthusiastic and flattering men who surrounded

her. She saw him not! Where was Paulo, where was Carlo? These

inquisitive lord cardinals had formed a circle around her, she seemed

to herself a prisoner; it alarmed her to thus find herself the central

point of all these attractions.

Not far from her stood Corilla, with glowing cheeks and anger-flashing

eyes.

"I will avenge this affront or die!" thought she, as, grasping Albani's

hand with convulsive violence, she whispered to him: "Free me from this

woman, and I will realize all your wishes."

Francesco Albani smiled. "Then you are mine, Corilla, and no power on

earth shall take you from me. That child is dead. See, see how she makes

herself a path through the crowd--ah, it is too sultry for her here in

the hall, she approaches the garden door, she slips out. Ah, give me

your hand, Corilla. Yet a few moments and the fairest woman on earth is

mine!"