"Savitre," she said one evening, as they were dressing for a ball, given in her honor, "that horrid man's attentions are becoming intolerable! He will not see how I detest him, and am bound by love and promise to another. I wish Luiz was here; he has been away so long. I am tired of Tonza's persistence and papa's reproaches." "Never mind, dearest; all will be well when your brave lover returns. Perhaps he may be even now on the way. I am sure if he knew how terribly you were persecuted he would fly to you at once," Savitre whispered softly. "I feel miserable--unhappy. Lalli, put away those robes and give me a plain black dress. During Luiz's absence I will put on mourning, so Tonza can read the sorrow I feel in my heart." "But, dear, what will your father say?" Savitre asked anxiously. "He will be angry, I know. But it is partly his fault I am obliged to act thus." In a few minutes Lalli and Tolla had silently arrayed their young mistress in trailing black robes, which clung softly to her beautiful form. No jewelry relieved the somberness of her dress; her dark hair, thick and long, fell like a veil over her shoulders, adding to the mournfulness of her garb by its dusky waves. Below, in the handsome marble hall, stood Don Garcia and Tonza, both watching with suppressed impatience the richly-hung staircase leading to Lianor's apartments. "It is late. I hope nothing has occurred," Manuel said anxiously, drawing the velvet curtain aside to gaze across the hall. Even as he did so, Lianor, leaning lightly on Satzavan's shoulder, appeared, her graceful head held proudly erect, an expression of supreme indifference on her face. Both men started with an exclamation of alarm--rage on Manuel's part. "What! In mourning, and for a ball?" Manuel gasped with rising passion. "Lianor, what does this farce mean? Why have you disguised yourself? How dare you disobey me when I said so particularly I wished you to appear at your best? I have been too weakly indulgent with you, and now you take advantage of my tenderness to disgrace me by showing my guests your foolish infatuation for a man to whom I now wish I had never promised your hand." Lianor lifted her reproachful eyes to his, her pale face, even whiter in contrast with her somber dress, full of resolute rebellion. "I am not ungrateful, papa, for your kindness, but I will never forget the promise I gave Luiz. My love is not to be bought for gold; I gave it willingly to the man to whom you betrothed me, and, father, none of our family have ever acted dishonorably; so I am sure you will not be the first to break your word." "Do not be too sure of that, Lianor. I am more than half inclined to make you accept Tonza, and forget your vows were ever plighted to that pauper captain." "You could not be so hard, knowing how my happiness is bound up in him. I will never, while Luiz lives, give my hand to another."