"No, Christina, you cannot leave here until you answer us," said Cornelius.
"Tell us the truth, I beg of you, Christina," added Balthazar, "and I promise you no harm will come to you—I swear it on my honor. I will forgive you, and no one will ever know of this—I swear it, Christina, I swear it before God!—don't you hear me, my child?"
"Yes!" answered Christina, who did not appear to be listening. "Oh, if I could only cry—if I could only cry!"
Cornelius seized the young girl's burning hands in his. "Christina, my child, God forgive us all, and we love you too much not to pardon you. Listen to me, I beg you. Don't you recognize me?"
"Yes," said Christina, as her eyes filled with tears.
"Well, then, I love you, do you hear?—I love you with all my heart!"
"Oh!" said the young girl as she burst into tears; "and yet you believe that I am a thief!"
"No, no!" hastily exclaimed Cornelius, "I do not believe it, I do not believe it! but, my dear child, you must help me to justify you, you must assist me to discover the criminal, and to do this you must be frank and tell me everything."
"Yes, you are good, you alone are kind to me. You pity me and do not believe what they say! they accuse me because I am a Bohemian—be-
