"Yes," she said quietly. "He has done everything that patriotism demanded of him--even"--meaningly--"to the sacrificing of his own personal happiness. . . . It was entirely his idea that Nadine should pass as an actress. She always had dramatic talent, and when she came out of the convent he arranged that she should study for the stage. He believed that there was no safer way of concealing her identity than by providing her with an entirely different one--and a very obvious one at that. And events have proved him right. After all, people only become suspicious when they see signs of secrecy, and there is no one more constantly in the public eye than an actress. The last place you would look for a missing grand duchess is on the English stage! The very daring and publicity of the thing made it a success. No one guessed who she was, and only I, I and Carlo Baroni, knew. Oh, yes, I was sworn to secrecy"--as she read the question in Diana's eye--"and when I saw you and Max drifting apart, and knew that a word from me could set things right, I've been tempted again and again to break my oath. Thank God!"--passionately--"Oh, thank God! I can speak now!" She twisted her shoulders as though freed from some heavy burden. "Yon thank God? _You_?" Diana spoke with bitter unbelief. "Why, it was you who made things a thousand times worse between us--you who goaded me into fresh suspicions. You never helped me to believe in him--although you knew the truth! You tried to part us!" "I know. I did try," acknowledged Olga frankly. "I'd borne it all for years--watched my brother sheltering Nadine, working for her, using his genius to write plays for her--spilling all his happiness at her feet--and I couldn't endure it any longer. I thought--oh! I _prayed_ that when it came to a choice between you and Nadine he would give way--let Nadine fend for herself. And that was why I tried to anger you against him--to drive you into forcing his hand." She paused, her breast heaving tumultuously. "But the plan failed. Max remained staunch, and only his happiness came crashing down about his ears instead. There is"--bleakly--"no saving saints and martyrs against their will." A silence fell between them, and Diana made a few wavering steps towards a chair and sat down. She felt as though her legs would no longer support her. In a mad moment, half-crazed by the new fear which the newspaper paragraph had inspired in her, she had closed the only road which might have led her back to Max. Yesterday, still unwitting of how infinitely she had wronged him, passionately, humbly ready to give him the trust he had demanded, she might have gone to him. But to-day, her knowledge of the truth had taken from her the power to make atonement, and had raised a barrier between herself and Max which nothing in the world could ever break down. She had failed her man in the hour of his need, and henceforth she must walk outcast in desert places.