rom his; he was standing before her as calm
and unmoved as a statue.

"I understand all of that," he said, a faint smile moving his lips. She
was not expecting such resignation as this.

"I am glad that you--that you understand," she said.

"Just the same," he went on gently, "you love me as I love you. You
kissed me. I could feel love in you then. I can see it in you now.
Perhaps you are right in what you say about not finding happiness
outside the walls, but I doubt it, Genevra. You will marry Prince Karl
in June, and all the rest of your life will be bleak December. You will
never forget this month of March--our month." He paused for a moment to
look deeply into her incredulous eyes. His face writhed in sudden pain.
Then he burst forth with a vehemence that startled her. "My God, I pity
you with all my soul! All your life!"

"Don't pity me!" she cried fiercely. "I cannot endure that!"

"Forgive me! I shouldn't say such things to you. It's as if I were
bullying you,"

"You must not think of me as unhappy--ever. Go on your own way,
Hollingsworth Chase, and forget that you have known me. _You_ will find
happiness with some one else. You have loved before; you can and will
love again. I--- I have never loved before--but perhaps, like you, I
shall love again. You _will_ love again?" she demanded, her lip
trembling with an irresolution she could not control.

"Yes," he said calmly, "I'll love the wife of Karl Brabetz." His eyes
swept hungrily over the golden bronze hair; then he turned away with the
short, hard laugh of the man who scoffs at his own despair. She started
violently; her cheek went red and white and her eyes widened as though
they were looking upon something unpleasant; her thoughts went back to
the naive prophecy in the treasure chamber.

She followed him slowly to the terrace. He stopped in the doorway and
leisurely drew forth his cigarette case.

"Shall we wait for the explosion?" he asked without a sign of the
emotion that had gone before. She gravely selected a cigarette from the
case which he extended. As he lighted his own, he watched her draw from
her little gold bag a diamond-studded case, half filled. Without a word
of apology, she calmly deposited the cigarette in the case and restored
it to the bottom of the bag.

Then she looked up brightly. "I am not smoking, you see," she said, with
a smile. "I am saving all of these for you when the famine comes."

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, somethi