Away, or--"

The fierceness with which he swung and cracked the whip was more
threatening than any words. Perhaps she grew a shade paler,
perhaps her hands were tightly clasped in order that they might not
tremble; but she did not flinch from the encounter. She moved a
step nearer, fixed her gaze upon his flashing eyes, and said, in a
low, firm voice--

"It is true, father, you are master here. It is easy to rule over
those poor, submissive slaves. But you are not master over
yourself; you are lashed and trampled upon by evil passions, and as
much a slave as any of these. Be not weak, my father, but strong!"

An expression of bewilderment came into his face. No such words
had ever before been addressed to him, and he knew not how to reply
to them. The Princess Helena followed up the effect--she was not
sure that it was an advantage--by an appeal to the simple, childish
nature which she believed to exist under his ferocious exterior.
For a minute it seemed as if she were about to re-establish her
ascendancy: then the stubborn resistance of the beast returned.

Among the portraits in the hall was one of the deceased Princess
Martha. Pointing to this, Helena cried--

"See, my father! here are the features of your sainted wife! Think
that she looks down from her place among the blessed, sees you,
listens to your words, prays that your hard heart may be softened!
Remember her last farewell to you on earth, her hope of meeting
you--"