"Then why marry this man, whoever he is?" he interrupted fiercely. He saw her words were uttered with an intense earnestness. There still burned in her eyes the unmistakable light of fond passion. "Because I must." "You must? I don't understand." Her cold lips moved, but no sound came from them. In vain she tried to suppress the fierce tumult of feelings that raged within her breast. He was endeavouring to wring her secret from her! the secret of Zertho's influence. No, he should never know. It was terrible, horrible; its very thought appalled her. To save her father from exposure, disgrace, and something worse she was compelled to renounce her love, sacrifice herself, and marry the man she despised and hated. "I have promised to marry the Prince d'Auzac because I am compelled," she said briefly, in a low, firm voice. "What renders it imperative?" he demanded, his face dark and serious. "My own decision," she answered, struggling to remain calm. "You have decided, then, to discard my love," he said fiercely. "You prefer being the wife of a Prince rather than of a struggling barrister. Well, perhaps, after all your choice is but natural." "I do not prefer," she declared, passionately. "Cannot you see, George, that there are circumstances which compel me to act as I am acting? Heaven knows, I have suffered enough, because you are the only man I can love." "Then why not remain mine, darling?" he said, more tenderly, with a slight pressure of her hand as he gazed with intense earnestness into her tear-dimmed eyes. "We love one another, therefore why should both our lives be wrecked?" "Because it is imperative," she answered, gloomily. "But what motive can you have in thus ruining your future, and casting aside all chance of happiness?" he inquired, puzzled. "It is to secure my future, not to ruin it, that I have promised to marry the Prince," she answered. "And for no ulterior motive?" "Yes," she faltered. "There is still another reason." "What is it? Tell me." "No, George," she answered in a low, hoarse voice. "Do not ask me, for I can never tell you--never." "You have a hidden motive which you refuse to explain," he observed resentfully. "I have placed faith in you; surely you can trust me, Liane!" "With everything, save that." "Why?" "It is a secret which I cannot disclose." "Not even to me?" "No, not even to you," she answered, pale to the lips. "I dare not!" He remained silent in perplexity. A bevy of bright-faced, laughing girls passed them in high spirits, counting as they went by the coin they had won at the tables. Liane turned her face from them to hide her emotion, and stood motionless, leaning still upon the balustrade. The sun was sinking behind the great dark rock whereon was perched Monaco, and the mountains were already purple in the mystic light of evening.