Elise, in the mean while, with joyful emotion recognized Bertram.  His unexpected and unlooked-for appearance did not surprise her, it seemed so natural to her that whenever danger threatened he should appear as her protector and savior.  She had such confidence in Bertram’s appearance whenever she stood in need of him, that when she saw him, she looked upon herself as saved, and protected from every danger which threatened her.  She motioned Feodor to her side, and with a touch of triumphant pride, said to him, “It is Bertram, the friend of my youth.  He has risked his life to save me from dishonor.”  Feodor felt the reproof which lay in the intonation of these words, and his brow grew dark.  But he overcame this momentary irritation, and turning to Bertram, who was approaching him with a firm and determined step, asked him, “Well, sir, whom do you seek?”

“A young girl who has been carried off by force,” replied Bertram, and he regarded the young man with angry looks.  But Feodor met his glance with firmness and composure.  “It is true,” said he, “such an outrage has been committed; some Cossacks kidnapped a young girl in a garden and brought her here.  I myself will inform the general of this dishonorable deed, for you understand, sir, that this outrage is an insult to us as well as to yourself.  I have promised my protection to this young person, and I am ready to defend her against any one who dares to touch her honor or to doubt her virtue.  Come, now, sir, and see whether this he the same young girl whom you seek.”

He stepped toward Bertram, and as he led him to Elise, he whispered rapidly in a low tone.  “Be silent, and do not betray her name, for Elise’s honor is at stake.”

He raised the veil, and, pointing to Elise’s abashed and blushing countenance, he asked, with a derisive laugh, “Well, now, do you recognize her?  Will you swear that this is Gotzkowsky’s daughter?”

Bertram looked at him with assumed surprise.  “Gotzkowsky’s daughter?” asked he, shrugging his shoulders.  “Why, it is the young lady herself who sent me, and no one is looking for her.”

Colonel Feodor turned with a laugh of triumph toward his comrades.  “Did I not tell you so?” cried he.  “You credulous fools were hoping to get half a million ransom, and I have been bargaining with her for the last hour for a hundred dollars.  She swears, with tears in her eyes, that she is not worth a hundred pence.  Gotzkowsky’s daughter, indeed!  Do you imagine that she goes about in a plain white dress, without any ornament or any thing elegant about her?  She is just as fond of dress as our own princesses and pretty women, and, like them, the daughter of the rich Gotzkowsky is never visible except in silk and velvet, with pearls diamonds.  Oh!  I would like myself to catch the millionnaire’s daughter, for then we might bargain for a decent ransom.”

“But who, then, is this woman?” roared the disappointed officers.  “Why does the rich Gotzkowsky send after her, if she is not his daughter?”