The young man, in the thoughtless
enthusiasm of youth, urged their flight.
"I am master of my art," he said, with a proud air. "We can live in
Florence, where I have many friends."
The youth did not find it hard to bring the confiding, artless girl
into his wishes. In less than a month the baron missed his child. A
letter explained all. She had been wedded to the young peasant, and
they had left for Florence. The letter contained this clause, signed
by both Pierre and Nina:--
"When our father will forgive us, and permit our return, we shall be
truly happy--but not till then."
The indignant old man saw nothing but impertinent assurance in this.
He tore up the letter, and trampled it under his feet, in a rage. He
swore to renounce his child forever!
For the Baron Holbein, the next twelve months were the saddest of
his life. Too deeply was the image of his child impressed upon his
heart, for passion to efface it. As the first ebullitions subsided,
and the atmosphere of his mind grew clear again, the sweet face of
his child was before him, and her tender eyes looking into his own.
As the months passed away, he grew more and more restless and
unhappy.
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