And she led him to the open doorway, but the hand which held his was cold
as ice.

A tumult of emotion was dominating Paul. He understood now that danger was
near--he guessed they were being watched--but by whom? By the orders
of--her husband? Ah! that thought drove him mad with rage--her husband!
She--his own--the mate of his soul--of his body and soul--was the legal
belonging of somebody else! Some vile man whom she hated and loathed, a
"rotting carrion spoiling God's earth." And he--Paul--was powerless to
change this fact--was powerless altogether except to love her and die for
her if that would be for her good.

"Queen," he said, his voice hoarse with passion and pain, "let us leave
Venice--leave Europe altogether--let me take you away to some far land of
peace, and live there in safety and joy for the rest of our lives. You
would always be the empress of my being and soul."

She flung herself on the tiger couch, and writhed there for some moments,
burying her clenched fists in the creature's deep fur. Then she opened
wide her arms, and drew Paul to her in a close, passionate embrace.

"_Moi-Lioubimyi_--My beloved--my darling one!" she whispered in anguish.
"If we were lesser persons--yes, we could hide and live for a time in a
tent under the stars--but we are not They would track me, and trap us, and
sooner or later there would be the end, the ignominious, ordinary end of
disgrace--" Then she clasped him closer, and whispered right in his ear in
her wonderful voice, now trembling with love.

"Sweetheart--listen! Beyond all of this there is that thought, that hope,