All along, then, Godensky had meant to get my promise and deceive me, for I had not even sent my note of defiance when this trick was played.  Had the treaty been missing, and Raoul disgraced, Godensky would no doubt have vowed to me—­if I’d lived to hear his vows—­that he had had no hand in the discovery.  Fear of the terrible man who had so nearly beaten me in the game made me quiver even now.  “You see,” I went on, “I can think of nothing but you, and my love for you.  You’ll never be jealous and make me miserable again, will you, no matter what Count Godensky or any other wretched creature may say of me to you?”

“I’ve listened to Godensky for the last time,” said Raoul.  “The dog!  He shall never come near me again.”

“I hardly think he will try,” I said.  “I’m glad we’re going to be married soon.  Do you know, I’m half inclined to do as you’ve asked me sometimes, and promised you wouldn’t ask again—­leave the stage.  I want to rest, and just be happy, like other women.  I want love—­and peace—­and you.”

“You shall have all, and for always,” answered Raoul.  “If only I deserved you!”

“If only I deserved you!” I echoed.

Raoul would not let me say that.  But he did not know.  And I trust that he never may; or not until a time, if such a time could come, that he would forgive me all things, because we are one in a perfect love.

THE END