"You will see him to-morrow and tell him. You know where to find him in the city here?"
Her face clouded. "That is a strange thing. He was so afraid of his father's anger that he dared not let me write to his home. He gave me an address in the Altgasse, but it is only a place where letters are received. But I shall find him, of course, easily."
"Would you take my advice, if I gave it?"
"In that, oh yes, of course. I know you are clever."
"It is to go straight to your father, Colonel Katona, and tell him all."
"Oh, no, no, no, I dare not now," she cried, shrinking timidly. "Karl made me take an oath to-day on the holy crucifix that, whatever happened, I would never tell my father without his permission."
"Why?"
"Because no one but Karl must break the news of our marriage to his father. No, no. I dare not. I dare not. I cannot break my oath. I should be false to the Holy Church." And at the mere thought of it she began to tremble.
It was clever; a stroke of almost diabolical cleverness; knowing the simple, trusting child, to close her lips by such an oath.
"You will not betray us?" she cried, taking alarm at my silence and serious expression. "You are my friend?"