"Will you intrust that to me?" "To whom else? All that I have I possess in common with you. My name, my wealth, my rank are yours; my honor, too, is yours. All this is now at stake; and you can help me--none other." "Command what shall I do." "Oh, do not speak so! It is not command, but entreaty. For what I now ask of you I crave as ardently as a man craves forgiveness from his Maker for his sins. That book is in Zeneida Ilmarinen's keeping." "Ah!" "I know that you hate her; but without reason, I swear to you! But of what value is the oath of a desperate man? No feeling has ever bound me to that lady that could in any way hurt your woman's pride. It was another tie--far more dangerous to me--but innocuous to you. But you do not believe me. Nor do I ask it. What I do implore is that in this hour of supreme danger you should show yourself magnanimous. If you have had cause of anger against me, forget it for the sake of the honor of the Ghedimin escutcheon, and lose no time in going to Fräulein Ilmarinen's house with this key, which unlocks the hiding-place. I well know the sacrifice I ask of you in begging you to cross that threshold. But I dare not go myself, for were I to be seen in the vicinity of that house I should be at once arrested. But no one will suspect you. See Fräulein Ilmarinen without delay, and tell her of the imminence of the danger, of which she may know nothing. She may have been informed, and, in that case, would certainly have destroyed 'the green book' were it not locked away in a place of safety, only to be broken open with great strength and much loss of time. Throw the book on the fire, and wait until you have seen it reduced to ashes; then hasten back to rescue me from my desperate situation!" "I will act as beseems a Princess Ghedimin." "My life and honor I give into your hands." "I know it." And, taking the key, Korynthia hurried away. "What a hurry the child is in!" said the old lady. "She will soon be back." "With the cards?" "Yes; with the cards." "Then, meanwhile, I will make myself smart, that she does not find me looking so untidy." The smartness consisted in the old lady's having her new cap--fashioned in 1807--brought to her with its large yellow ostrich feather. This she duly put on, and with it her two false curls. Her hair was white, the curls black. A full hour went slowly by. "What a long time the child is finding the cards! She will be changing her dress, taking off her grand ball-dress, and slipping into a cotton morning-wrapper. Wait a minute; it will be such fun. How it will make her laugh! I will sing the Matrimonial Ditty. It is really very pretty. Bring me my guitar, Ihnasko. Ah, how well I used to play it!" And the good matron took the ancient instrument, and, encouraged by her previous success, set about amusing her little nest-bird with a cheery old song--he sitting there, the drops of cold perspiration on his brow. "Listen--