He noiselessly pushes back the bolt; noiselessly, upon tiptoe, with closed lantern, he creeps into the room and to Natalie’s bedside.

She is wonderfully beautiful, and she smiles in her slumber.  How charming is that placid face, that half-uncovered shoulder, that arm thrown up over her head, where it is half concealed under her luxuriant locks!  Wonderfully beautiful is she.  Dares he to touch that arm and breathe a kiss, a very light kiss, upon those fragrant lips?  Why not?  No one sees him, nor will Count Alexis Orloff ever know that his commands have been disobeyed.

But as he bent down, as his breath comes only in light contact with her cheek, she stirs!  Maiden modesty never slumbers; it watches over the sleeping girl, it protects her.  It is her good genius who never deserts her.

Drawing herself up, Natalie opens her eyes and starts up from her couch.  Then she sees a large, threatening masculine form close before her, close before her that wildly-laughing face.

A shriek of terror and anguish bursts from her lips, and in a tone of alarm she calls:  “Carlo, Carlo!  Help! help!  Carlo!  Save—­”

More she did not say.  With a wild rage, angry, and ashamed of his own folly, Joseph Ribas rushes upon her.

“One more cry!” he threateningly said—­“one more call for help, and I will murder you!”

But at this moment a small curtained door which Ribas had not remarked and hence not fastened, was suddenly opened, and Carlo rushed in.

“I am here, Natalie!—­I am here!”

Rushing upon the stranger, and grasping him with gigantic strength, he thrust him down from the bed.

Joseph Ribas turned toward his new and unexpected enemy.  The lamp lighted his face, and falling back Carlo shrieked, “My brother!”

Joseph Ribas broke out into a loud, savage laugh.  “At length we meet, my brother,” said he.  “But this time you shall not hinder me in my work.  This time I am the conqueror!”

“No, no, that you are not!” cried Carlo, beside himself with pain and rage.  “Confess what you want in this house—­confess, or you are a dead man!”

And with a drawn dagger he rushed upon his opponent!

A frightful struggle ensued.  Natalie, in her night-dress, pale as a lily, knelt upon her bed and prayed.  She had folded her hands over her breast, directly over the place where the papers confided to her by Paulo, in a little silken bag, always hung suspended by a golden chain.

“Grant, O my God,” prayed she—­“grant that I may keep my promise to Paulo, and that I may defend these papers with my life!”

And the two brothers were still struggling and contending; like two serpents they had coiled around each other, and held each other in their toils.

“Flee, flee, Natalie!” groaned Carlo, with a weakened voice—­“flee away from here!  I yet hold him, you are yet safe!  Flee!”

But in this moment the maiden thought not of her own danger.  She thought only of Carlo.  Springing from her bed, with flashing eyes she boldly threw herself between the contending men.