[Illustration: With hands lightly folded in her lap and head leaned back against her chair, Natalie has listened. In the beginning she had been carried out of herself by a feeling of painfully sweet happiness, but now she felt strangely oppressed. _p. 36_.] "But--do you really not recognize me?" With these words, and with friendly, outstretched hands, a young lady hastened toward a man who, with gloomily contracted brow, wrapped in thought, went on his way without noticing either her or his surroundings. He was foolish, for his surroundings were picturesque--Rome, near the Fontana di Trevi, on a bright March afternoon. And the young lady--she was charming.…
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