Princess Zara

"You have forgotten----" She began impetuously to answer, but he

unclasped one hand from hers, long enough to make a warning gesture,

and enunciated the one word: "Hush! Remember, Zara, you are not to

speak until I have finished, and then upon a different subject. But I

will answer your unspoken thought, for I read it in your manner. I have

not forgotten your little friend Yvonne; nor Stanislaus, her brother.

Indeed, my child, this very scene reminds me of it, and renders all the

more imperative the duty I am seeking to perform. Let the terrible fate

of that poor girl appeal to you. Let the awful end of Stanislaus be a

warning. Vengeance should have no part or place in your heart, even

though you believe that they cry out to you from their graves to

undertake it. But they do not do that, Zara, and if either or both of

them could speak now, they would voice the sentiments I have expressed,

and emphasize the warnings I have given. Go back to your home in St.

Petersburg, my child, and leave politics alone. Alexander, the czar,

admires you and esteems you, but I who am his friend, warn you that the

admiration and esteem of monarchs can be no more relied upon than the

shifting fogs of the Gulf of Finland."

Again Princess Zara would have spoken, for her dark eyes lighted with a

sudden fire and she half started from her chair with an eagerness that

was impetuously expressive. But Saberevski retained his clasp upon her

hands, and without seeming to do so, restrained her where she was;

after a moment he added: "Now, if you please we will change the subject. My duty as I saw it,

has been performed, and nothing remains to be said. In a few moments I

will leave you, and when I do so, we will probably part for the last

time. Now, Zara, tell me something about yourself."

There was a suspicion of tears in her upturned eyes as she looked at

him from out of their glowing depths, but she took him at his word, and

with a visible effort brought back the smile to her countenance as he

returned to his chair at the opposite side of the table.

"There is little to tell you of myself, Saberevski," she replied, while

he helped himself to another cigarette. "You know what my life is, even

though you have been absent from home almost a year."

"Yes," he said, smiling, "one round of pleasures, and of conquest.

Adorers waiting for you on every hand; lovers perhaps----"

"No; not lovers," she interrupted him. "There is no place for them,

Saberevski," and a shade of sadness which he attributed to the memory

of Stanislaus, clouded her eyes for a moment. Had he but known however,

it was no recollection of that young officer of the czar's household,

to whom reference has already been made and to whom Zara was once

betrothed, that affected her. It was a deeper and more far-reaching

consideration that brought the expression of pain for an instant into

her eyes, and she longed to cry out the truth to her companion, then

and there.