"But I don't want it. I want neither a cloister, nor praying nuns, nor hypocritical monks. I will not work, unless I am beaten and made to; and even if I am beaten, I won't pray." "You shall not be forced to anything of that kind. I will send you neither to a cloister, nor to a reformatory, but into the country. I have a castle on my estate where a dear friend of mine is living." There was a sudden sparkle in the girl's eyes. Throwing away the threatening chain, and shaking back the loose hair with sudden movement from her brow, she looked with joyful smile at the President of Police. "Ah! you would send me to Daimona?" "Yes; to Daimona." Ah! stern Cato Censorius then had yet one tender chord in his heart, one far more tender even than that which had been wrung by the banishment of his son! There was much talk about Daimona, but not in her favor; and what was said of her was but a shadow of truth--the woman whom the favorite of the Czar worshipped more than all the saints in heaven or earth! It was with her he spent every moment he could snatch from affairs of state. She was the sun of his life--at once his tyrant and his happiness. She was a woman so savage, so cruel and passionate, that none but an Araktseieff could have loved her. Or was it just for that that he did love her? Every one who wished to appeal to Araktseieff, or hoped to escape his vengeance, must first sue to his idol and offer his sacrifice at her feet; and costly sacrifices they must be--no make-believes. Daimona's extortions were renowned throughout the breadth of the empire. Diabolka's pearly teeth glistened white through her coral lips. "So you would like to go to Daimona?" asked the great official. "Why not? She is a woman after my own heart." "I am not sending you to her to be her servant, but to be her friend." "Oh, we shall soon be very friendly!" "She feels lonely; and you will know how to amuse her." "I will divine her thoughts." "If she takes a fancy to you, you will be happy with her. She will give you smart clothes, trinkets, and riding-horses." "And a whip to scourge the slaves with." "And if you get on well, and become a _young lady_, Daimona will find you a husband." At these words the girl's face darkened. Shaking her head energetically, till the dishevelled hair fell over it again, she struck her thigh vehemently as she exclaimed, with a stamp of her foot: "Then I will not go!" A malicious smile curled Araktseieff's lips. Then he continued, in a paternal tone: "I understand. You have a lover here among the gypsies." "A 'brother'!" exclaimed the girl. "Oh, a 'brother'! Gypsies are prudish; they only have 'brothers.' And suppose I were to send your brother, too, to Daimona's castle? He might make a good overseer of slaves." "Would that be possible?" cried Diabolka, joyously. "It shall be done. I will send you together to Daimona, and you shall become her confidential people."