"Anna, what means this pa.s.sion?" cried Michael, in astonishment.

"Silence, slave!" cried the imperious woman. "What ho, there!" she added, stamping her foot; "who waits?"

Half a dozen menials sprang to her call.

"Take me this slave to the court yard!" she cried vehemently; "he has been guilty of misbehavior. Let him taste the knout; and woe be to you if you spare him. Away with him! Rid me of his hateful presence!"

While Michael was subjected to this hateful punishment, the vindictive girl, still burning with pa.s.sion, sought her sister. What pa.s.sed between them may be conjectured from what follows.

Michael, released from the hands of the menials, stood, with swelling heart and burning brow, in one of the lofty apartments of the castle.

He had felt no pain from the lash, but the ignominy of the punishment burned in his very soul, consuming the image that had been in his inner heart for years. The scales had fallen from his eyes, and he now beheld the younger daughter of the count in all the deformity of her moral nature--proud, imperious, pa.s.sionate, and cruel.

A door opened--a female, with dishevelled hair, and a countenance of agony, rushed forward and threw herself at his feet, embracing his knees convulsively. It was Anna!

"O Michael!" she cried, "forgive me, forgive me! I shall never forgive myself for the pain I inflicted upon you."

"I have suffered no pain," replied Michael, coldly. "Or if I did, it is the duty of a slave to suffer pain. You reminded me this morning that I was still a slave."

"No, no! It is _I_ that am _your_ slave!" cried the lady. "Your slave--body and soul. Behold! I kiss your feet in token of submission, my lord and master! Michael, I love you--I adore you! I would follow you barefoot to the end of the world. Let me kiss your burning wounds; and O, forgive--forgive me!"

Michael raised her to her feet, and gazed steadily in her countenance.

"Lady," said he, "I loved you years ago, when, as a boy, I was only permitted to gaze on you, as we gaze upon the stars, that we may worship, but never possess. It was this high adoration that refined and enn.o.bled my nature; that, in the mire of thraldom, taught me to aspire--taught me that, though a slave, I was yet a man. Through your silent influence, I was enabled to refine my manners, to cultivate my mind, and to fit myself for the freedom which bounteous Heaven had in store for me."

"Yes, yes!" replied Anna. "You have made yourself all that can render a woman happy. There is not a n.o.ble in the land who can boast of accomplishments like yours; and you are beautiful as a virgin's dream of angels."

"These are flattering _words_, lady."

"They come from the heart, Michael."

"You have told me what I am, lady. Now hear what I require in the woman I would wed. She must be beautiful, for beauty should ever mate with beauty; high born, for the lowly of birth are aspiring, and never wed their equals; yet above all, gentle, womanly, kind, forgiving, affectionate. No uns.e.xed Semiramis or Zen.o.bia for me."

"I will make myself all that you desire, Michael."

"We cannot change our natures," replied Michael, coldly.

"But you will forgive me?"

"I am not now in a condition to answer you. Smarting with indignation I can ill suppress, I cannot command the calmness requisite to reply in fit terms to the generous confidence of a high-born lady. Retire to your apartment, lady, for your father is expected momently, and I must see him first alone."

Anna kissed the hand of the slave, and retired slowly. A few moments afterwards the gallop of a horse was heard entering the court yard, and this sound was followed by the appearance of Count Alexis, who threw himself into the arms of Michael, and pressed him to his heart.

"Joy, joy, Michael!" he exclaimed. "You are now free--as free as air!

Here are the doc.u.ments; my slave no longer--my friend always. And as soon as you choose to join the service, you can lead a troop of the royal cavaliers."

Michael poured out his thanks to his generous master.

"And now," said the count, "to touch upon a matter nearer still to my heart. Since the adventure in the forest, I have loved you as a son.

To make you such in reality would be to crown my old age with happiness. My daughters are acknowledged to be beautiful, fitting mates for the proudest of the land. I offer you the hand of her you can love the best; make your election, and I doubt not her heart will second my wishes and yours."

"My n.o.ble friend," said Michael, "I accept your offer gratefully. You have made me the happiest of men. You will pardon me, I know, when I confess that I have dared to raise my eyes to one of your daughters.

Without your consent the secret should have been hidden forever in my own heart, even had it consumed it."

Count Tekeli shook the hand of the young man warmly, and then summoned his two daughters. They obeyed promptly. Both were agitated, and bent their eyes upon the floor.

"Count Tekeli," said Michael, speaking in a calm, clear voice, "I have a word to say to this your younger daughter, the lady Anna."

As her name was uttered, the young girl raised her eyes, inquiringly, to the face of the speaker.

"Lady, but now," said Michael, "you solicited my forgiveness on your knees."

"What!" cried the count, the blood mounting to his temples; "a daughter of mine solicit on her knees forgiveness of one so late my more than va.s.sal--my slave! What is the meaning of this?"

"It means," cried Michael, kindling as he spoke, "that this morning, during your absence, count,--nay, a half hour before your return, this, your younger daughter, in a moment of ill-founded jealousy and rage, usurping your virtual rights,--rights you had yourself annulled,--doomed me to the knout!--yea, had me scourged by menials in the court yard of your castle!"

"How," cried the count, addressing his daughter, "dared you commit this infamy on the person of my friend--the savior of your life?"

"I did, I did!" cried Anna, wringing her hands.

"And you asked me to forgive you," said Michael. "You offered me your hand, and begged me to accept it. My answer is, Never, never, never!

The moment you laid the b.l.o.o.d.y scourge upon my back, you lost your hold upon my heart forever! I were less than a man could I forgive this outrage on my manhood. I saved your life--you repaid it with the lash. It is not the lash that wounds, it is the shame. The one eats into the living flesh, the other into the living heart. Were you ten times more lovely than you are, you would ever be a monster in my eyes."

The tears that coursed freely down the cheeks of the lady Anna ceased to fall as Michael ceased to speak. A deep red flush mounted to her temples, and her eyes, so lately humid, shot forth glances like those of an angry tigress. She turned to the count.

"Father," said she, "will you permit a base-born slave to use such language to your daughter?"

"Silence!" said the old man. "His heart is n.o.bler than yours. More measured terms could not have pa.s.sed his lips. I should have despised him had he felt and said less. Get thee to thy chamber, and in penitence and prayer relieve thy conscience of the sin thou hast committed."

The lady Anna retired from the apartment with a haughty air and measured step.

"Lady," said Michael, approaching Eudocia, "between your sister and myself there is a gulf impa.s.sable. If ever I can forgive her, it must be when those sweet and tender eyes, that speak a heart all steeped in gentleness and love, have smiled upon my hopes, and made me at peace with all the world. Dearest Eudocia, will you accept the devotion of my heart and life?"

He took her hand; it trembled in his grasp, but was not withdrawn. She struggled for composure a moment, and then, resting her head upon his shoulder, wept for joy.

The nuptials of Michael and Eudocia were soon celebrated. A brilliant a.s.semblage graced the old castle on the occasion; but long before the solemnization, the count's younger daughter had fled to a convent to conceal her anger and despair.

OBEYING ORDERS.

The "oldest inhabitant" perfectly remembers the Widow Trotter, who used, many years ago, to inhabit a small wooden house away down in Hanover Street, in somewhat close proximity to Salutation Alley. Well, this widow was blessed with a son, who, like Goldsmith, and many other men distinguished in after life, was the dunce of his cla.s.s. Numerous were the floggings which his stupidity brought upon him, and the road to knowledge was with him truly a "wale of tears."

One day he came home, as usual, with red eyes and hands.

"O, you blockhead!" screamed his mother,--she was a bit of a virago, Mrs. Trotter was,--"you've ben gettin' another lickin', I know."