He lost his temper: “This expedition is foolishness--pure foolishness,” he said. “What? It’s a fortnight since we succeeded and that, thanks to you, we gained the most extraordinary victory. The whole mass of those precious stones is safe in the strong-room of a bank in London. All danger is over. The Countess of Cagliostro, Madam Pellegrini, Madam Balsamo, the Marquise de Belmonte, are all at the bottom of the sea, as a result of the shipwreck of the _Glow-worm_ which you had the admirable idea of organizing and which you directed with such vigor. Twenty witnesses heard the explosion from the coast. To all the world you are dead, a hundred times dead, and I as well, and all your confederates. If anyone succeeded in bringing to light the story of the treasure of the monks, they would come to the conclusion that it had been scattered about with the fragments of the _Glow-worm_ at a place impossible to fix exactly, and that the jewels are strewn about in the bottom of the sea. And we may well believe that Justice is delighted with this shipwreck and our deaths, and that it is not going to look too closely into the matter, such efforts have been made in high places to hush up the Beaumagnan-Cagliostro affair. Everything then is going well. You are the mistress of circumstances and victorious over all your enemies. And it is the moment at which the most elementary prudence bids us leave France and to get as far as possible away from Europe. And that’s the very moment you choose to return to the very place in which you have suffered your worst defeats, and to confront the only enemy who remains. And what an enemy! A genius of a kind so exceptional, that, without him you would never have discovered the treasure. You must admit that it’s madness.” She murmured: “Love is a madness.” “Then give it up.” “I can’t give it up. I love him.” She rested her elbows on the bulwarks, her head between her hands, and murmured in despairing accents: “I love him. It’s the first time I have ever loved. The other men--they don’t count. But as for Ralph--but I don’t want to talk about him. Thanks to him I have known the only joy I ever had--but also the greatest suffering. Before I met him I did not know what happiness was; but I did not know sorrow either. And then--and then the happiness came to an end; and only the suffering is left. It’s horrible, Leonard! The idea that he is going to marry--that another is going to share his life, is more than I can bear. Anything rather than that! I would rather risk anything--I would rather die!” He said in a low voice: “My poor Josine.” They were silent for some time. She leaned on the rail huddled together and despairing. Then when the boat was lowered, she drew herself upright, imperious and implacable. “But I risk nothing, Leonard--neither death nor failure,” she said. “What are you going to do?” he said in a tone of patient resignation. “I’m going to carry him off.” “You hope to do that?”