"You understand us German knights badly, in thinking us capable of such wretched measures. If you do not choose to unburthen your heart by a frank confession of your evil intentions, persist then in your obduracy. I leave you to your conscience; and however late may come the moment in which you hear its voice, yet the moment will come. If in such an hour you repent of the evil you have already done me, and of that which you yet purpose, may heaven not remember against you your heavy sin in abusing the fair body it has given you--abusing it as a bait for vice, and to the destruction of the souls of your fellow-creatures. I for my part forgive you now as becomes a Christian; but we never see each other again." He went. With the rolling eyes of a lioness, whose prey has escaped, Bona watched after him. "So then, this sin has been in vain. I have not even earned the fruits of the evil harvest. My machines have been in play to no purpose. The awkward footsteps of this rough man have crushed to pieces the artificial wheelwork. Let it go. I meant it better with you than you deserved. The assailant has always the advantage, because he can choose time and place. If you will not be set upon my victim, he must be set upon you, that self-defence may force the sword of vengeance into your hand. May you both perish in it!" The old gardener thrust his head in at the door with a crafty, inquiring laugh. Bona called out to him--"I am alone, Sylvester. What is Rasselwitz doing?" "Awake at last!" replied the gardener, coming into the room. "He complained of head-ache, begged of me to excuse him to you, and tottered off. But in his place some one else has come again--Mr. Christopher Friend, splendidly tricked out, and dressed in sky-blue velvet, waits below in the green-house, and begs for a morning audience." "So early?" asked Bona, surprised. "What can he want?" "He inquired of me so circumstantially about your fortune," replied the gardener, "and looked withal so smart and gay, and made such little twinkling eyes, that I think in a short time you may expect proposals of marriage." Bona smiled scornfully. After a brief consideration she replied--"He does indeed mistake, but he comes in good time. Beg of him to excuse me till I am dressed." "Number three, in so short a period!" said the gardener smirking. "If this goes on, you'll soon draw after you the core of the Schweidnitz male population, as Punch does the children with his trumpet." "Think you so?" rejoined Bona, with self-satisfaction.