“And if I had not made that wager!” he said, following aloud his train of thought.

“And if I had not bought that statuette!” picking up the thread.  If she had laughed, nothing might have happened.  But her voice was low and sweet and ruminating.

The dam of his reserve broke, and the great current of life rushed over his lips, to happiness or to misery, whichever it was to be.

“I love you, and I can no more help telling you than I can help breathing.  I have tried not to speak, I have so little to offer.  I have been lonely so long.  I did not mean to tell you here; but I’ve done it.”  He ceased, terrified.  His voice had diminished down to a mere whisper, and finally refused to work at all.

Still she stared out to sea.

He found his voice again.  “So there isn’t any hope?  There is some one else?” He was very miserable.

“Had there been, I should have stopped you at once.”

“But . . . !”

“Do you wish a more definite answer . . .  John?” And only then did she turn her head.

“Yes!” his courage coming back full and strong.  “I want you to tell me you love me, and while my arms are round you like this!  May I kiss you?”

“No other man save my father shall.”

“Ah, I haven’t done anything to deserve this!”

“No?”

“I’m not even a third-rate hero.”

“No?” with gentle raillery.

“Say you love me!”

“Amo, ama, amiamo . . .”

“In English; I have never heard it in English.”

“So,” pushing back from him, “you have heard it in Italian?”

“Laura, I didn’t mean that!  There was never any one else.  Say it!”

So she said it softly; she repeated it, as though the utterance was as sweet to her lips as it was to his ears.  And then, for the first time, she became supine in his arms.  With his cheek touching the hair on her brow, they together watched but did not see the final conquest of the day.

“And I have had the courage to ask you to be my wife?” It was wonderful.

Napoleon, his hunted great-grandson, the treasure, all these had ceased to exist.

“John, when you lay in the corridor the other night, and I thought you were dying, I kissed you.”  Her arm tightened as did his.  “Will you promise never to tell if I confess a secret?”

“I promise.”

“You never would have had the courage to propose if I hadn’t deliberately brought you here for that purpose.  It was I who proposed to you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite get that,” doubtfully.

“Then we’ll let the subject rest where it is.  You might bring it up in after years.”  Her laughter was happy.

He raised his eyes reverently toward heaven.  She would never know that she had stood in danger.

“But your father!” with a note of sudden alarm.  And all the worldly sides to the dream burst upon him.