She darted to the door to open it. She had not been mistaken. _He_ was
there, the man whom she expected. With a cry of joy he opened his arms, and
she threw herself into them, clasping her arms around his neck, and laid
her head upon his breast.

"Welcome, my beloved one, welcome! Oh, how delightful it is to rest upon
your breast!"

"And what happiness to clasp you in my arms, Leonore! Raise your head, my
sweet love; let me see your beautiful face and sun myself in your eyes."

She lifted her face to his, gazing at him with a happy smile. "I see myself
in your eyes, dearest."

"And you would see yourself in my heart also, if you could look into it,
Leonore. But come, my queen, sit down and let me rest at your feet and look
up to you as I always do in spirit."

He accompanied her to the divan and pressed her down upon the silken
cushions. Then, reclining at her feet, he laid his clasped hands in her lap
and resting his chin upon them, gazed up at her.

"Do you really love me, Leonore? Can you, the proud, petted, much courted
Baroness de Simonie, really love the poor adventurer, who has nothing, is
nothing, calls nothing his own, not even his heart, for that belongs to
you."

"I love you, because you are what you are," she said, smiling, stroking his
black hair lightly with her little white hand.