"He has just returned from Florence, an artist of high merit.

There is nothing base about him, father!" "The son of a peasant, and an artist, to dare approach me and claim the hand of my child! And worse, that child to so far forget her birth and position as to favor the suit! Madness! And this is your good Blanche!--your guide in all works of benevolence! She shall be punished for this base betrayal of the confidence I have reposed in her." Nina fell upon her knees before her father, and with tears and earnest entreaties pleaded for the mother of Pierre; but the old man was wild and mad with anger.

He uttered passionate maledictions on the head of Blanche and her presumptuous son, and positively forbade Nina again leaving the castle on any pretext whatever, under the penalty of never being permitted to return.
Had so broad an interdiction not been made, there would have been some glimmer of light in Nina's dark horizon; she would have hoped for some change--would have, at least, been blessed with short, even if stolen, interviews with Pierre.

But not to leave the castle on any pretext--not to see Pierre again! This was robbing life of every charm.

For more than a year she had loved the young man with an affection to which every day added tenderness and fervor.