I wanted to rise, but my knees shook too violently, and I could only stretch out my hand to seize his as he passed me. He drew it hastily back, and going across to the sofa, sat down by mamma. My brother subsided on to a chair near them; and Mme. Duphot, who had been sitting by mamma, diffident as ever, pushed her tabouret a little further back. My sister and I sat at a little distance from them, like a criminal and his counsel before their judges. “Dear papa, dear mamma,” began Elizabeth, “in Paula’s name I would pray you ask the count to cease paying his addresses to her. Paula cannot like him, and is determined that she will not marry him.” I was dismayed and terrified at the abrupt manner in which she said this. Mme. Duphot sighed. Bernhard muttered “Oho!” My father and mother were silent. “It is Paula’s earnest hope,” resumes Elizabeth, “that you, dear father and mother, will give your sanction to her decision.” “Oh, do!” I broke in; “be merciful. I will be forever grateful to you. I cannot marry Count Taxen. I do not feel the smallest particle of affection for him; rather the reverse.” “Does that mean that you have a dislike to him?” exclaimed papa angrily. “Who has been putting such folly into your head? I suppose your elder sister?” “For all I hold dearest in the world, do not think that! It is I who have implored her to intercede for me with you.” “In the first place,” said mamma, “you need no one to intercede between you and your parents, but should have come in all confidence to them yourself. In the second place, your sister, instead of being so ready to take this office upon herself, should have pointed out to you how foolish it is to have allowed any such fancy not only to exist, but to be blurted out before us, and for which there is not the slightest reason.” “She declares it--that is her reason!” returned Elizabeth. Her voice, before somewhat veiled, was now as hard and sharp as when first she came to me. I drew nearer to her, and put my arm round her--her whole frame quivered. “Folly--folly,” repeated papa. “We cannot listen to such trash.” “The count is an upright, honorable man; well bred, good looking, and of unexceptionable manners; a man with whom you could not fail to be happy, Paula,” pronounced mamma, in severe and uncompromising tones. “You may not love him now, but you will certainly learn to do so when it has become your duty.” A shudder ran through me, and I stammered out: “No, mamma, no! I shall never learn to love him, because I----” The confession I was about to make died away upon my lips. I turned a look of entreaty upon my sister. Her lovely face was aflame; with arms crossed upon her breast, she was looking unflinchingly, an expression of reproach and indignation in her eyes, at mamma.