"Thank you for that 'may,' Eugene. But let your decision be a speedy one, I implore you; for I long to quit a court that bristles with so many tiresome Spanish formalities. I would be glad to start to- morrow, but I will wait for you. How long must I wait?"
"Only until my secretary returns from Turin. I expect him to-day."
"So much the better. Let me hear from you as soon as possible."
"I will."
The elector rose and took his leave, while Eugene returned to his escritoire, and tried to resume his occupation. But his thoughts were straying to Venice, and his hand lay listless on the paper.
"To Venice!" murmured he. "To Venice—perchance to Laura!"
As he pronounced her name, he broke into one wild ejaculation of joy.
"See her? Oh, yes!" cried he, passionately. "Gaze into my Laura's eyes, I must—should the sight cost me my life! But—no!" faltered he, suddenly. "I must not see her. She has forgotten me; and perhaps at this very hour, when my heart throbs to bursting at the thought of meeting her again, she jests with her husband at the silly episode of her foolish fancy for me! Perhaps she rejoices at her escape from alliance with the disgraced family of the De Soissons, and blesses Heaven for—peace, doubting heart! I WILL believe—I WILL hope—Laura, my Laura.—Ah, Conrad, are you here at last?"
And Eugene, springing from his seat, clasped Conrad's hands within his own.
"Yes, your highness," replied Conrad, his face beaming with joy to see his dear lord. "I have just alighted, and must apologize for my dusty garb. I did not stop to change my dress."