'You do know—what?' he asked tenderly, and he took one hand of hers in his, and she did not draw it away. The moment had come. Each knew it.
'I know that I love you,' she said in a passionate whisper. 'I know that you are my hero and my idol! There!'
He only kissed her hand.
'Then you will wait for me?' he asked.
'Wait for you—wait here—without you?'
'Until I have won my fight, and can claim you.'
'Oh!' she exclaimed in passion of love and grief and fear, 'how could I live here without you, and know that you were in danger? No, I couldn't—couldn't—couldn't! That wouldn't be love—not my love—no—not my love!'
For a moment even the thought of a rescued Gloria was pushed back in the Dictator's mind.
'Since it is so,' said the Dictator, not without a gasp in his throat as he said it, 'come with me, Helena.'
'Oh, thank God, and thank you!' the girl cried. 'See here—this is your birthday, and I had no birthday-gift ready to give you. Ah, I have been thinking so much about you—about you, you yourself—that I forgot your birthday. But now I remember; and here is a birthday-gift for you—the best I can give!' And she seized his hand and kissed it fervently.