to give him up, I must tell him with
my own lips, and bid him good-bye. I will do this to-morrow, if you will
hold your hand until then."

We looked at each other for a long moment in silence. Godensky was
trying to read my mind, and to make up his accordingly.

"You swear by everything you hold sacred to break with him to-morrow?"

"By the memory of my father and mother, martyred by bureaucrats like
you, I pledge my word that--that--if I can't break with Raoul, to let
you know the first thing in the morning, and dare you to do--what you
will."

"You will not 'dare' me, I think. And because I think so, I will wait--a
little longer."

"Until this time to-morrow?"

"No. For if you cheated me, it would be too late to act for another
twelve hours. But I will give you till to-morrow noon. You agree to
that?"

"I agree." My lips formed the words. I hardly spoke them; but he
understood, and with a flash in his eyes took a step towards me as if to
snatch my hand. I drew away. He followed, but at this instant Marianne
appeared at the door.

"There is a young lady to see Mademoiselle," she announced, her
good-natured, open face showing all her dislike of Count Godensky. "A
young lady who sends this note, begging that Mademoiselle will read it
at once, and consent to see her."

Thankful that the tete-a-tete had been interrupted, I held out my hand
for the letter. Marianne gave it to me. I glanced at the name written
below the lines which only half filled the first page of theatre paper,
and found it strange to me. But, even if I had not been ready to snatch
at the chance of ridding myself immediately of Godensky, the few words
above the unfamiliar name would have made me say as I did say, "Bring
the young lady in at once."

"I come to you from Mr. Dundas, on business which he told me was
of the greatest and most pressing importance.

"DIANA FORREST."

That was the whole contents of the note; but a dozen sheets closely
filled with arguments could not have moved me more.

CHAPTER XVIII

MAXINE MEETS DIANA

Godensky was obliged to take his leave, which he did abruptly, but to
all appearance with a good grace; and when he was gone Marianne ushered
in a girl--a tall, beautiful girl in a grey tailor dress built by an
artist.

For such time as it might have taken us to count twelve, we looked at
each other; and as we looked, a little clock on the mantel softly chimed
the quarter hour. In fiftee