'Child, dost thou really wish to lay me here among the dead? Dost thou desire me to rise no more on earth forever? Ah, the love in thy blue eyes has been my solace through my many life-storms. Thou art my single pearl, and I have given thee to the hands of the stranger, that thy brilliancy may remain unclouded, that it may ever glitter in its full splendor. What is the matter with thee? Speak, child, even if it be to complain, to tell me thou art wretched.' Grasping the white marble of the grave with both hands for support, with gasping breath he awaits her answer. The vengeful sword of remorse is already in his soul; one groan, one spasm of anguish from the innocent victim would break his heart. Raising her heavy eyelids, his child seems to trace an expression of pity on his face, and for a moment dreams that hope is not yet past. Kneeling on the marble of the grave, and turning her young face, so sweet in its appealing anguish, full upon him, a _name_ forces itself through her quivering lips--a sudden shivering shakes the frame of the old man, throwing him off from the grave of his young wife. 'What name hast thou uttered? It must never be repeated--never! No; it were impossible. Tell me I have not heard thee aright; let it rest in eternal oblivion! Thou canst not dream of that ungrateful exile, conspiring against me because I prepared for him a brilliant future--the son of my brother joining with my enemies to compass my ruin! If them regrettest him, if thou hast a single lurking hope that I will ever permit thee to see that banished rebel, to clasp his hand in even common friendship, may the eternal curses of God rest upon you both!' A voiceless victim offered up upon the altar of the vengeful gods, the maiden has as yet suffered in silence, but rising now in solemn dignity, in a cold, firm, resolute tone, she says: 'I love him, father.' The old man cannot bear these chill and fatal words. His brain reels, his hopes die, he falls at the foot of the grave, his soul rests for the moment with the ghosts of his ancestors. When he awakes to consciousness, the pale face of his child is bending tenderly over him, her caresses call him back to life. Hark! again he hears the sounding strophes of the wedding song; the chanting maidens cross the threshold; slowly singing, they surround the bride with snowy circle; nearer and nearer they cluster round her--she throws herself for refuge in the old man's arms! * * * * * The maidens now clasp, embrace the trembling bride, take her from her father's arms, and bear her on with them. They strew flowers in her path, burn incense around her, as they chant in ever-renewed chorals the dawning of a new and happy life, full of honor and blessing. The old man solemnly follows the choir until they reach the great stairway leading to the bridal chamber: there he bids them stop, and, making the sign of the cross, for the last time blesses the half-swooning girl.