"My dear, my dear," she kept repeating, in a flurried sort of way, "you must not do anything rash—you must not do anything wild. Oh, my dear, take care! it is so wicked for children to disobey their parents!"
"I am no longer a child, Madame Potecki; I am a woman: I know what seems to me just and unjust; and I only wish to do right." She was now quite calm. She had mastered that involuntary tremulousness of the lips. It was the little Polish lady who was agitated.
"My dear Natalie, I will go to your father. I said I would go—even with your message—though it is a frightful task. But how can I tell him that you have this other project in your mind? Oh, my dear, be cautious! don't do anything you will have to repent of in after-years!"
"You need not tell him, dear Madame Potecki, if you are alarmed," said the girl. "I will tell him myself, when I have come to a decision. So you cannot say what one ought to do in such circumstances? You cannot tell me what my mother, for example, would have done in such a case?"
"Oh, I can; I can, my dear," said the other, eagerly. "At least I can tell you what is best and safest. Is it not for a girl to go by her father's advice—her father's wishes? Then she is safe. Anything else is wild, dangerous. My dear, you are far too impulsive. You do not think of consequences. It is all the affair of the moment with you, and how you can do some one you love a kindness at the instant. Your heart is warm, and you are quick to act. All the more reason, I say, that you should go by some one else's judgment; and who can guide you better than your own father?"
"I know already what my father wishes," said Natalie.
"Then why not go by that, my dear? Be sure it is the safest. Do you think I would take it on me to say otherwise? Ah, my clear child, romance is very beautiful at your age; but one may sacrifice too much for it."
"It is not a question of romance at all," said Natalie, looking down. "It is a question of what it is right that a girl
should do, in faithfulness to one whom she loves. But perhaps it is better not to argue it, for one sees so differently at different ages. And I am very grateful to you, dear Madame Potecki, for agreeing to take that message to my father; but I will tell him myself."
She rose. The little woman came instantly and caught her by both hands.