ve it--But those letters--those letters which you would have cast
into the fire if I had not revealed the secret of my life--you told me so
yourself--I might have sworn what you asked, and you would have believed
me--I might have done so; but no, it would have been too vile, too
cowardly! Ah! kill me! That is what I deserve, that is what--"

"Where are you going?" she cried, interrupting herself, her eyes dilated
with fear, as she saw that Zilah, without answering, was moving toward
the door.

She forgot that she no longer had the right to question; she only felt,
that, once gone, she would never see him again. Ah! a thousand times a
blow with a knife rather than that! Was this the way the day, which began
so brightly, was to end?

"Where are you going?"

"What does that matter to you?"

"True! I beg your pardon. At least--at least, Monsieur, one word, I
implore. What are your commands? What do you wish me to do? There must be
laws to punish those who have done what I have done! Shall I accuse
myself, give myself up to justice? Ah! speak to me! speak to me!"

"Live with Michel Menko, if he is still alive after I have met him!"
responded Andras, in hard, metallic tones, waving back the unhappy woman
who threw herself on her knees, her arms outstretched toward him.

The door closed behind him. For a moment she gazed after him with haggard
eyes: and then, dragging herself, her bridal robes trailing behind her,
to the door, she tried to call after him, to detain the man whom she
adored, and who was flying from her; but her voice failed her, and, with
one wild, inarticulate cry, she fell forward on her face, with a horrible
realization of the immense void which filled the house, this morning gay
and joyous, now silent as a tomb.

And while the Prince, in the carriage which bore him away, read the
letters in which Marsa spoke of her love for another, and that other the
man whom he called "my child;" while he paused in this agonizing reading
to ask himself if it were true, if such a sudden annihilation of his
happiness were possible, if so many misfortunes could happen in such a
few hours; while he watched the houses and trees revolve slowly by him,
and feared that he was going mad--Marsa's servants ate the remnants of
the lunch, and drank what was left of the champagne to the health of the
Prince and Princess Zilah.

CHAPTER XXIII

"THE WORLD HOLDS BUT ONE FAIR MAIDEN"

Paris, whose everyday gossip has usua