"I am not unwilling—believe me, dearest, I would do anything to please you," I assured her; "but it seems so strange to me that you should wish the result of your labour destroyed, simply because you are going on a journey."
"Strange as it seems, I desire it most earnestly," said Zara; "otherwise—but if you will not see it done for me, I must preside at the work of demolition myself, though I frankly confess it would be most painful to me."
I interrupted her.
"Say no more, Zara!" I exclaimed; "I will do as you wish. When you are gone, you say—"
"When I am gone," repeated Zara firmly, "and before you yourself leave this house, you will see that particular statue destroyed. You will thus do me a very great service."
"Well," I said, "and when are you coming back again? Before I leave Paris?"
"I hope so—I think so," she replied evasively; "at any rate, we shall meet again soon."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
She smiled. Such a lovely, glad, and triumphant smile!
"You will know my destination before to-night has passed away," she answered. "In the meanwhile I have your promise?"