“It is true,” said the young maiden, sighing, “I am wrong to be always recurring to those long-past times; you must pardon me, Paulo, but you will also acknowledge that my enigmatical past justifies me in feeling some curiosity.  Only think how it began!  You one day came rushing to my room, you pressed me all trembling to your heart, and silently bore me away.  ‘Natalie,’ said you, ’danger threatens you; I will save, or perish with you!’ You mounted your horse with me in your arms.  Behind us screamed and moaned the servants of my house, but you regarded them not, and I trustingly clung to your heart, for I knew that if danger threatened me, you would surely save me!  Oh, do you yet remember that fabulous ride?  How we rested in out-of-the-way houses, or with poor peasant people, and then proceeded on farther and farther!  And how the sun constantly grew warmer, melting the snow, and you constantly became more cheerful and happy, until, one day, you impetuously pressed me to your bosom, and said:  ’Natalie, we are saved!  Life and the future are now yours!  Look around you, we are in Italy.  Here you can be free and happy!’”

“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?”