prospect of snatched meetings. It is not to be borne. We shall go to that
home of strange joy, my lover, and there for a space at least we can live
in peace."

Paul asked no better gift of fate. Venice he had always longed to see, and
now to see it with her! Ah! the very thought was ecstasy to him, and made
the blood bound in his veins.

"When, when, my darling?" he asked. "Tomorrow? When?"

"To-day is Friday," she said. "One must give Dmitry time to make the
arrangements and take a palace for us. Shall we say Sunday, Paul? I shall
go on Sunday, and you can follow the next day--so by Tuesday evening we
shall be together again, not to part until--the end."

"The end?" said Paul, with sinking heart.

"Sweetheart," she whispered, while she drew his face down to hers, "think
nothing evil. I said the end--but fate alone knows when that must be. Do
not let us force her hand by speculating about it. Remember always to live
while we may."

And Paul was more or less comforted, but in moments of silence all through
the day he seemed to hear the echo of the words--The End.




CHAPTER XV