"It was not the younger man of the two, was it, who told you?" "No, no," replied Zeneida, to whom the child's whole soul was revealed. "Fear nothing for him! His hand and heart are clear from it." "And you are in it?" asked the girl, touching Zeneida's breast with the tip of her finger. Zeneida was startled by the direct questions. Was it childish curiosity, or had it a deeper meaning? Bethsaba remarked her surprise. "You see, there can be no secrets where love is. I will tell you all I know, and what hitherto I have told to no one--not even to my godmother, whom I believe I fear more than I love. But you I love so very, very much, and that is why I am going to tell what I know, and how awfully they plot against him. He himself told Sophie. In Petrovsko the rebellious soldiers and peasants would not allow him to go farther; they insulted and threatened him to that degree that he had to turn back. Now these people were ragged and starving, and I can understand their being angry with him. But what complaint have you against him? You are rich, beautiful, and fêted. Why, then, are you one of the conspirators?" An idea flashed into Zeneida's mind. This child might form the link in the chain that was still wanting. "Come nearer; let us whisper it, that even the walls do not hear. I, too, love you, and will frankly tell you all I know. I, too, am in the conspiracy, and play an important part in it." "What reason have you?" "I am a 'Kalevaine.'" "And what is a 'Kalevaine'?" "In Soumalain language, that which you are in the Circassian language. A girl who, when she came into the world, had a home she no longer has, whose nation, then Soumalain, is now known as Finnish. Doubtless you remember as clearly as I do the people and places you were among up to your sixth year, whom you may never look on again, and yet whom you never can forget?" "Oh, it is true." "Is it not? Amid all the pomp and splendor the world can give, in the midst of the most brilliant court festivities, do you not feel a sudden pang at heart when the thought of your dark native woods flashes across you; of the horsemen, on their fiery steeds, coursing over the rushing mountain streams; of the blue mountains in the far distance, and your ancestral castle, in which, enthroned, your father received the homage of his vassals?" "Oh yes, yes." "And even now you remember the legends told you by the murmuring streams of your native land?" "You are right; you are right."