La Ferme St. Michel. One morning at five A.M. the three of them went to the open farmer's market that rilled the streets of Monte Carlo and bought fresh breads and vegetables and fruit.

Sundays, when Teresa sang in church, Raoul and Monique were there to listen, and afterward Raoul would hug Teresa and say, "You really are a miracle. I could listen to you sing for the rest of my life."

Four weeks after they met, Raoul proposed.

"I'm sure you could have any man you want, Teresa," Raoul said, "but I would be honored if you chose me."

For one terrible moment Teresa thought he was ridiculing her, but before she could speak, he went on.

"My darling, I must tell you that I have known many women,

but you are the most sensitive, the most talented, the warmest…"

Each word was music to Teresa's ears. She wanted to laugh; she wanted to cry. How blessed I am, she thought, to love and be loved.

"Will you marry me?"

And her look was answer enough.

When Raoul left, Teresa went flying into the library where her sister, mother, and father were having coffee.

"Raoul asked me to marry him." Her face was glowing, and there was almost a beauty about her.

Her parents stared at her, stunned. It was Monique who spoke.

"Teresa, are you sure he's not after the family money?"

It was like a slap in the face.

"I don't mean that unkindly," Monique went on, "but it all seems to be happening so fast."

Teresa was determined not to let anything spoil her happiness. "I know you want to protect me," she told her sister, "but Raoul has money. His father left him a small inheritance, and he's not afraid to work for a living." She took her sister's hand in hers and begged, "Please be glad for me, Monique. I never thought I'd know this feeling. I'm so happy, I could die."

And then the three of them embraced her and told her how pleased they were for her, and they began to talk excitedly about plans for the wedding.

Very early the next morning Teresa went to church and knelt to pray.

Thank You, Father. Thank You for giving me such happiness.

I will do everything to make myself worthy of Your love and of Raoul's. Amen.

Teresa walked into the general store, her feet above the ground, and said, "If you please, sir, I would like to order some material for a wedding gown."

Raoul laughed and took her in his arms. "You're going to make a beautiful bride."

And Teresa knew he meant it. That was the miracle.

The wedding was set to take place a month later in the village church. Monique, of course, was to be the maid of honor.

At five o'clock Friday afternoon, Teresa spoke to Raoul for the last time. At twelve-thirty Saturday, standing in the church vestry waiting for Raoul, who was thirty minutes late,

Teresa was approached by the priest. He took her arm and led her aside, and she wondered at his agitation. Her heart began to pound.

"What is it? Is something wrong? Has anything happened to

Raoul?"

"Oh, my dear," the priest said. "My poor, dear Teresa."

She was beginning to panic. "What is it, Father? Tell me!"

"I—I just received word a moment ago. Raoul—"

"Is it an accident? Was he hurt?"

"—Giradot left town early this morning."

"He what? Then some emergency must have come up to make him—"

"He left with your sister. They were seen taking the train to Paris."

The room began to whirl. No, Teresa thought. I mustn't faint. I mustn't embarrass myself in front of God.

She had only a hazy memory of the events that followed.

From a far distance she heard the priest make an announcement to the wedding party, and she dimly heard the uproar in the church.

Teresa's mother put her arms around her daughter and said,

"My poor Teresa. That your own sister could be so cruel. I'm so sorry."

But Teresa was suddenly calm. She knew how to make everything all right.

"Don't worry, Mama. I don't blame Raoul for falling in love with Monique. Any man would. I should have known that no man could ever love me."

"You're wrong," her father cried. "You're worth ten of

Monique."

But his compassion came years too late.

"I would like to go home now, please."

They made their way through the crowd. The guests at the church moved aside to let them pass, staring silently after them.

When they returned to the chateau, Teresa said quietly,

"Please don't worry about me. I promise you that everything is going to be fine."

Then she went up to her father's room, took out his razor,

and slashed her wrists.

When Teresa opened her eyes, the family doctor and the village priest were standing alongside her bed.

"No!" she screamed. "I don't want to come back. Let me die. Let me die!"

The priest said, "Suicide is a mortal sin. God gave you life, Teresa. Only He may decide when it is finished. You are young. You have a whole lifetime ahead of you."

"To do what?" Teresa sobbed. "Suffer more? I can't stand the pain I'm in. I can't stand it!"

He said gently, "Jesus stood the pain and died for the rest of us. Don't turn your back on Him."

The doctor finished examining Teresa. "You need to rest.

I've told your mother to put you on a light diet for a while." He wagged a finger at her. "That does not include razor blades."

The following morning Teresa dragged herself out of bed.

When she walked into the drawing room, her mother said in alarm, "What are you doing up? The doctor told you—"

Teresa said hoarsely, "I have to go to church. I have to talk to God."

Her mother hesitated. "I'll go with you."

"No. I must go alone."

"But—"

Her father nodded. "Let her go."

They watched the dispirited figure walk out of the house.

"What's going to happen to her?" Teresa's mother moaned.

"God only knows."

She entered the familiar church, walked up to the altar,

and knelt.

"I've come to Your house to tell You something, God. I despise You. I despise You for letting me be born ugly. I despise You for letting my sister be born beautiful. I despise You for letting her take away the only man I ever loved. I spit on You."

Her last words were so loud that people turned to stare at her as she rose and stumbled out of the church.

Teresa had never believed there could be such pain. It was unbearable. It was impossible for her to think of anything else. She was unable to eat or sleep. The world seemed muffled and far away. Memories kept flashing into her mind,

like scenes from a movie.

She remembered the day she and Raoul and Monique had walked along the beach at Nice.

"It's a beautiful day for a swim," Raoul said.

"I'd love to go, but we can't. Teresa doesn't swim."

"I don't mind if you two go ahead. I'll wait for you at the hotel."

And she had been so pleased that Raoul and Monique were getting along so well together.

They were lunching at a small inn near Cagnes. The maltre d' said, "The lobster is particularly good today."

"I'll have it," Monique said."Poor Teresa can't. Shellfish makes her break out in hives."

St. Tropez. "I miss horseback riding. I used to ride every morning at home. Do you want to ride with me, Teresa?"

"I—I'm afraid I don't ride, Raoul."

"I wouldn't mind going with you," Monique said. "I love to ride."

And they had been gone all morning.

There were a hundred clues, and she had missed all of them. She had been blind because she had wanted to be blind.

The looks that Raoul and Monique had exchanged, the innocent touching of hands, the whispers and the laughter.

How could I have been so stupid?

At night when Teresa finally managed to doze off, she had dreams. It was always a different dream, but it was always the same dream.