She brushed her hand across her eyes. I blessed her in my heart for that little act. The patroon, however, grew angry. He lifted a wine glass from the table and held it in his hand, as if he intended to throw it at her. “Do not talk to me of her,” he burst out. “Not a word of her or you shall repent it. Now go. You have already seen too much of this man. I shall not tolerate it.” The girl bowed with proper dignity, but she did not move. She had still a word of protest that must be said. “I shall obey you, sir, but I must say what I feel. I shall not act behind your back. You shall know exactly what I intend to do. I shall see him again and tell him all I can of the miserable fate of his sister and I shall do all in my power to sooth his sorrow. I loved Ruth even if she was but—” Her words were cut short by the crash of breaking glass. She had sprung to one side just in time to evade the flying goblet which her father hurled at her. “Will you not obey me? Are you not my daughter?” “I am you daughter, but for all that, father—” She stopped speaking and left the room abruptly, for at that moment another door was opened, which I could not see, though I heard the latch click distinctly. Then Louis Van Ramm entered the room and came to his master’s side. I heard the patroon say something to him about the “Wench, my daughter.” Then he and the dwarf fell to talking in tones so low that I could only hear now and then an excited exclamation of surprise. I can hardly express the feelings that I experienced at that moment. From where I crouched in the shrubbery, shivering with cold, I could look upon the wide space where I had seen the Red Band drilling the night before, surrounded by the jumping shadows of the torches. The picture of the girl dressed in white, standing upon the platform while the troopers obeyed the commands of their chief, and the impatient gesture with which she had been dismissed by her father, were all clear in my mind’s eye. I had not thought then that within a day I should have found a friend within the walls of the manor. Yet such was the case. The girl was disposed to treat me kindly. I did not care so much for that. My heart was drawn towards her because she had loved Ruth, and because she was now suffering for that affection. I could not but admire her spirit, and the quiet dignity with which she stood to her convictions before the hot anger of her parent; nor could I observe without still greater admiration the noble pride that prompted her to be silent the moment another person entered the room. Of course I did not know then as I knew later how unlike her usual manner this severity towards her father was. But I soon learned that there were moments when his peculiar infirmity demanded such firmness and that this was one of them.