"You are silent, Leonore?" asked her father. "Have you nothing to tell
me?"

She started from her sorrowful reverie; a bold, resolute fire again flashed
in her eyes. "I have many things to tell you, many important things," she
replied. "But I will not utter a single word unless you first take an
oath."

"What oath?"

"The oath that, if it is Kolbielsky who comes to murder Napoleon, you will
warn him and let him escape."

"But how am I to warn him in advance, since the probability is that, if I
really catch him, it will be at the moment of the deed."

"Well, then, you will let him escape at that moment, if it is Kolbielsky."

"But that is impossible, Leonore! You will understand yourself that it is
impossible."

"Well, then, do as you choose, but do not ask me to communicate my
discoveries. Good-night, father; I feel tired, I will go to sleep."

Passing her father, she approached the door. But just as she was about to
open it, he laid his hand on her arm and stopped her.

"Stubborn girl," he said, smiling, "I see that your will must be obeyed to
induce you to speak. Well, then, I swear that, if the person who comes to