In the middle of this room stood a young lady of
rare beauty. A plain black dress enveloped her form, reaching to her
neck and veiling her bust. Her face was very white and delicate, a
complexion to be found only among the fair daughters of the North;
her blond hair fell down in heavy ringlets beside her faintly-
flushed cheeks; a fervent light was beaming from her large light-
blue eyes.
"That is Madame von Lutzow, to whom the travellers in the stage-
coach alluded," said Leonora to herself; "it is the count's noble
daughter, who poured a glass of water over her hand because a
Frenchman had kissed it, and who descended from her father's castle
to marry a poor Prussian officer, whom she loved for the scars on
his forehead."
The beautiful lady approached the two young volunteers with a sweet,
winning smile. "You wish to see Major von Lutzow, do you not?" she
inquired. "Unfortunately, he is not at home; pressing business
matters prevent him from personally welcoming the young heroes who
wish to join him. He has charged me with doing so in his place, and
you may believe that I bid you welcome with as joyous a heart as my
husband would do."
"Oh, we are so happy to be received by you," said Leonora, smiling,
"for we were told at Berlin of noble and beautiful Madame von Lutzow
enlisting the Legion of Vengeance, and who is so true a
representative of the great idea of our struggle.
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