“Dearest,” he exclaimed, “I know your news must be good, for you look so bright and beautiful. Tell me—tell me!”
I laughed, teasingly, though Heaven knew I was in no mood for teasing.
“You’re too impatient,” I said. “To punish you for asking about the wretched diamonds before you enquired how I slept, and whether I dreamed of you, I shall make you pay a penalty.”
“Any penalty you will,” he answered, laughing too, and entering into the joke—for he was happy and hopeful now, seeing that I could joke.
“Let me sit down and write at your desk, on a bit of your paper,” I said.
He gave me pen and ink. I scribbled off a few words, and folded the note into an envelope.
“Now, this is very precious,” I went on. “It tells you all you want to know. But—I’m going to post it.”
“No, no!” he protested. “I can’t wait for the post.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t trust my treasure to the post office, not even if it were insured. Open that wonderful safe you gave me a peep into the other day, and I’ll put this valuable document in among the others, not more valuable to the country than this ought to be to you. I’ll hide it there, and you must shut up the safe without looking for it, till I’ve gone. Then, you must count ten, and after that—you may search. Remember, you said you’d submit to any penalty, so no excuses, no complaints.”
Raoul laughed. “You shall have your way, fantastic though it be, for you are a sorceress, and have bewitched me.”