Philip, overcome with joy, ran to show Dora Sabaroff's letter. "At last," he cried, "we are near the goal. Ten days more and I shall know whether they take my shell or not. And then, from that day, Heaven be thanked, no more invention on the brain, no more anxiety, no more worry; I shall be rich, and I shall get at my work again, the work that you love. Only, you know, I shall take things easily. I shall not work now to pay the tradespeople; I shall paint seriously, I tell you." Seeing a ray of joy pass over Dora's face, he added, "You see, I do not intend to throw all overboard. Look here, we have been married six years, and you don't know me yet. That's the fact of the matter." His gaiety and enthusiasm of other days seemed to have come back again, and Dora's heart leapt within her at the sight. She went so far as to encourage him in his present hopes, but more especially applauded the resolution that he appeared to have taken to return to his old work. Philip took her in his arms and kissed her more tenderly than he had done for six months past. "After all," said Dora to herself, "my suspicions were perhaps absurd; there was no foundation for them. I have had a bad dream, a horrible nightmare--I must fling it off. It is all over--patience, patience. Just a few days longer." Next time Sabaroff called, Dora received him with less coldness and reserve. She was cheerful, amiable, and appeared almost glad to see him. This new attitude delighted him. There was no mistaking the looks he gave her, his whole body betrayed the feelings of this man for Dora. "After all," she thought, "in a few days he will be back in St. Petersburg, and I shall have finished for ever with his Excellency the War Minister of his Majesty the Czar of all the Russias." On the 13th, Philip received a telegram calling him to Paris at once. He was begged to spend a few hours at the arsenal of artillery with the Ministre de la guerre. He could not refuse. He wired immediately that he would comply without delay. Dora naturally proposed to send at once to General Sabaroff, asking him to dine with them another evening instead of on the 15th. "No, no," said Philip; "I shall leave Paris the day after to-morrow by the nine o'clock train in the morning. It is the mail, and I shall arrive in London at half-past four; even allowing for a couple of hours of possible delay, I should still reach home in good time. Besides," he said, glancing at a newspaper, "the barometer is rising, the sea is good, there is no danger of bad weather and delays." It was in vain for Dora to persist, Philip would not consent to any change in the arrangement.