Bruna, growling joyfully, had risen and put one paw on her knee, looking up at her with intelligent eyes. Bissula gratefully patted the animal's head and held out her hand to Zercho, who kissed it humbly. Laughing, yet with tears in his eyes, he cried: "O little sprite, little red sprite!" But now the girl bent down again, exclaiming: "No, Adalo, it is no Valkyria, it is Bissula, little red Bissula, who is so wicked, so wicked! Adalo,--hush, don't speak,--I know all. I know, too, what you wanted to do for me, what you offered. That was wrong in you. Hush, hush! It was certainly what you--you only are of all the people in the world. Hush, dearest--don't move. Yes, yes, I will stay here, your nurse, your maid-servant, as long as you need me. Ah! I beg you so earnestly--I entreat you--take me! No, no! Do not move your arm! Not yet to your breast! But I will do everything all my life--will be as blindly obedient as you desire: only let me stay with you--your own!" Her little head sank on his breast. The wounded man raised himself, kissed her flowing red hair, the red lips, now smiling again, and the eyes still wet with tears, exclaiming rapturously: "O Bissula--you dear one--you wicked elf--my beloved bride!" FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: The German name for Lake Constance.] THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's A Captive of the Roman Eagles, by Felix Dahn