She wished to withdraw her hand, but he still held it.

“I do not understand you,” she said.  “Papa’s wishes will always be for my happiness; why should I think of thwarting them?”

“Why, indeed?  And again, why?  It is my advice to you, my little daughter, whether you think your father’s wishes are for your happiness or not—­because, you know, sometimes fathers and daughters have different ideas—­do not go against his will.”

The hot blood mounted to Natalie’s forehead—­for the first time during this interview.

“Are you predicting strife, signore?  I owe obedience to my father, I know it; but I am not a child.  I am a woman, and have my own wishes.  My papa would not think of thwarting them.”

“Natalushka, you must not be angry with me.”

“I am not angry, signore; but you must not suppose that I am quite a child.”

“Pardieu, non!” said Calabressa.  “I expected to find Natalushka; I find Natalie—­ah, Heaven! that is the wonder and the sadness of it to me!  I think I am talking to your mother:  these are her hands.  I listen to her voice:  it seems twenty years ago.  And you have a proud spirit, as she had:  again I say—­do not thwart your father’s wishes, Natalie—­rather, Natalushka!”

He spoke with such an obvious kindness and earnestness that she could not feel offended.

“And if you want any one to help you at any time, my little daughter—­for who knows the ways of the world, and what may happen?—­if your father is sent away, and you are alone, and you want some one to do something for you, then this is what you will say to yourself:  ’There is that old fool Calabressa, who has nothing in the world to do but smoke cigarettes and twirl his mustache—­I will send for Calabressa.’  And this I promise, little one, that Calabressa will very soon be at your feet.”

“I thank you signore.”

“It is true, I may be away on duty, as your father might be; but I have friends at head-quarters; I have done some service.  And if I were to say, ’Calabressa wishes to be relieved from duty; it is the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi who demands his presence,’ I know the answer:  ’Calabressa will proceed at once to obey the commands of the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi.’”

“But who—­”

“No, my little daughter, you must not ask that.  I will tell you only that they are all-powerful; that they will protect you—­with Calabressa as their agent; and before I leave this city I will give you my address, or rather I will give you an address where you will find some one who will guide you to me.  May Heaven grant that there be no need.  Why should harm come to one who is so beautiful and so gentle?”

“My mother—­was she happy?” she said quickly.

“Little daughter,” said he, sharply, and he threw away her hand, “if you ask me any more questions about your mother you will make my heart bleed.  Do you not understand so simple a thing as that, you who claim to be a woman?  You have been stabbing me.  Come, come:  allons!—­let us talk of something else—­of your friend who wishes to be more than a friend—­you wicked little one, who have no sweetheart!  And what are those fools of English about?  What?  But tell me—­is he one of us?”