I had just sunk upon my knees, further from the altar than usual--for I arrived too late. I had just begun to raise my thoughts towards Heaven--when some person placed himself behind me--so close behind me! I could neither move forwards nor aside, however much I desired it, in my fear lest the devotion of my neighbour might interrupt my prayers. Devotion was the worst thing which I suspected. But it was not long before I heard a deep sigh close to my ear, and not the name of a saint;--no--the name--do not be angry, dear mother--the name of your daughter.--My own name! Oh, that a peal of thunder had at that moment made me deaf to the rest. The voice spoke of beauty and of love--complained that this day, which crowned my happiness (if such should prove the case) sealed his misery for ever. He conjured me--all this I was obliged to hear, but I did not look round. I wished to seem as if I was not listening. What more could I do? Nothing but pray that my guardian angel would strike me with deafness--even with eternal deafness. This was my prayer--the only prayer which I could utter. At length it was time to rise; the service came to an end. I trembled at the idea of being obliged to turn round--trembled at the idea of beholding him whose impiety had so much shocked me--and when I turned--when I beheld him---- CLAUDIA. Whom, my daughter? EMILIA. Guess, dear mother, guess: I thought I should have sunk into the earth. Himself! CLAUDIA. Whom do you mean? EMILIA. The Prince! CLAUDIA. The Prince! Blest be your father's impatience! He was here just now, and would not stay till you returned. EMILIA. My father here--and not stay till I returned! CLAUDIA. If, in the midst of your confusion, you had told him too. EMILIA. Well, dear mother--could he have found anything in my conduct deserving of censure? CLAUDIA. No--as little as in mine. And yet, yet--you do not know your father. When enraged, he would have mistaken the innocent for the guilty--in his anger he would have fancied me the cause of what I could neither prevent nor foresee. But proceed, my daughter, proceed. When you recognised the Prince, I trust that you were sufficiently composed to convince him by your looks, of the contempt which he deserved. EMILIA. That I was not. After the glance by which I recognised him, I had not courage to cast a second. I fled. CLAUDIA. And the Prince followed you? EMILIA.