"I give it in farewell."
"In farewell?" cried Sonnenkamp, making a deep cut in the peg. He went up to Manna, and caught her hand.
"Pray, father," she interrupted. "Herr von Pranken, you are a nobleman whom I honor and esteem. You have proved yourself loyal to my father: as his child, I shall value you, and remember you with gratitude; but"—
"But what?" demanded Sonnenkamp.
"I owe it to you to speak the truth. I cannot become your wife. I love Herr Dournay, and he loves me. We are one; and no power of earth or heaven can part us."
"You and the teacher, that Huguenot, that word-huckster, that hypocrite? I will strangle him with my own hands, the thief"—
"Father," returned Manna, drawing herself up to her full height, while the heroic courage which shone from her eyes made her appear taller and stronger than she was in reality,—"father, Herr Dournay is a teacher and a Huguenot. It is only your anger that speaks the rest."
"My anger shall speak no more. You do not know me yet. I stake my life on this"—
"That you will not do, father. We children have enough to bear already."
A cry, horrible as that of some monster, burst from Sonnenkamp's breast.