the man who read
them. She did not confide the state of her heart. It was not
necessary. The arraignment of the one and the defense of the other
were sufficiently illuminating.

Soundly the happy sleep. She did not hear the removal of Warrington's
luggage at midnight, for it was stealthily done. Neither did she hear
the fretful mutter of the bird as his master disturbed his slumbers.
Nothing warned her that he intended to spend the night on board; that,
having paid his bill early in the evening, her note might have lain in
the key-box until the crack of doom, so far as he was likely to know of
its existence. No angel of pity whispered to her, Awake! No
dream-magic people tell about drew for her the picture of the man she
loved, pacing up and down the cramped deck of the packet-boat, fighting
a battle compared to which that of the afternoon was play. Elsa slept
on, dreamless.

When she awoke in the morning she ran to the mirror: all this fresh
beauty she was going to give to him, without condition, without
reservation, absolutely: as Aspasia might have rendered her charms to
Pericles. She dressed quickly, singing lowly. Fate makes us the
happiest when she is about to crush us.

Usually she had her breakfast served in the room, but this morning she
was determined to go downstairs. She was excited; she brimmed with
exuberance; she wanted Romance to begin at once.

"Good-morning," she greeted the consul-general, who was breakfasting
alone.

"Well, you're an early bird!" he replied. "Elsa, you are certainly
beautiful."

"Honestly?" with real eagerness.

"Honestly. And how you have gone all these years without marrying a
grand duke, is something I can't figure out."

"Perhaps I have been waiting for the man. There was no real hurry."

"Lucky chap, when you find him. By the way, our romantic Parrot & Co.
have gone."

"Gone?" Elsa stared at him.

"Yes. Sailed for Saigon at dawn."

"Saigon," she repeated.

"And I am rather glad to see him go. I was afraid he might interest
you too much. You'll deny it, but you'll never outgrow the fairy-story
age."

"Saigon."

"Good heavens, Elsa, what is the matter?"

"No, no! Don't touch me. I'm not the fainting kind. Did you know
last night that he was going?"

"Yes."

"I shall never forgive you."

"Why, Elsa . . ."

"Never, never! You knew and did not tell me. Do you know who Paul
Ellison is? He is the brother of the man at home. You k