"My dear girl," said he, "I shall be heartbroken if you leave Valeria—but, if that is all you need to do to be free to go—and you are not, in fact, Armand Dalberg's wife—then I am surprised that you have not done it long ago."
She smiled, rather sadly.
"Yes, I fancy you are. I'm rather surprised myself. It would sound queer, to some people in America, but I have actually tried, for once in my life, to keep faith to the end. But it is as I always thought—not worth the while. I'll know better again."
Then, she got up and, going behind her chair, leaned over the back.
"Does Your Highness realize what my going to the Governor means to you?" she asked.
"I don't seem to be able to follow your argument," he said; "and I'm a poor guesser of riddles."
"It means that I shall have to tell the whole ugly story of how I chanced to come to Dornlitz to pose as the wife of the Grand Duke Armand."
He took a fresh cigarette and carefully lit it. "But, my dear girl," he said, "I don't see how that would affect me?"
She laughed.
"Still the premier artiste! Well, play it out. If you want to hear what you already know it's no trouble to tell you. Shall I begin at the very beginning?"