"Come, let us talk of something else--of you, _par exemple_. How do you
like the English? You have many sweethearts among them, of course."

"No, signore, I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, without any trace of
embarrassment.

"What! Is is possible? When I saw your father in Venice, and he told me
the little Natalushka had grown to be a woman. I said to him, 'Then she
will marry an Englishman.'"

"And what did he say?" the girl asked, with a startled look on her face.

"Oh, little, very little. If there was no possibility, why should he say
much?"

"I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, simply; "but I have a friend--who
wishes to be more than a friend. And it is now, when I have to answer
him, it is now that I know what a sad thing it is to have no mother."

The pathetic vibration that Brand had noticed was in her voice; her eyes
were downcast, her hands clasped. For a second or two Calabressa was
silent.

"I am not idly curious, my little daughter," he said at length, and very
gently; "but if you knew how long your mother and I were friends, you
would understand the interest I feel in you, and why I came all this way
to see the little Natalushka. So, one question, dear little one. Does
your father approve?"