Samson, if I could pull down the pillars of their Opera House and
bury them all in its ruins, I would do it!"

He took her hand and smoothed it in his.

"Dear Louise, it is useless, this. You do everything that can be
done for your country."

Her eyes were streaming and her fingers sought his.

"My friend David," she said, "you do not understand. None of you
English yet can understand what it is to crouch in the shadow of
this black fear, to feel a tyrant's hand come creeping out, to know
that your life-blood and the life-blood of all your people must be
shed, and shed in vain. To rob a nation of their liberty, ah! it
is worse, this, than murder, - a worse crime than his who stains
the soul of a poor innocent girl! It is a sin against nature
herself!"

She was sobbing now, and she clutched his hands passionately.

"Forgive me," she murmured, "I am overwrought. I have borne up
against this thing so long. I can do no more good here. I come
to tell you that I go away till the time comes. I go to your
London. They want me to sing for them there. I shall do it."

"You will break your engagement?"

She laughed at him scornfully.