Princess Zara

He interrupted the princess by laughing heartily.

"Again you took me too literally," he asserted. "Here and there, there

may be one who will seek Russia and the czar for such employment, but

it will be for the emolument it will bring, and cannot be induced by

patriotic sentiment. We would have little cause to dread such people,

since we would not be long in identifying them, and ultimately I

believe they would assist, rather than retard our efforts."

"Perhaps so."

"There can be no doubt of your own loyalty to our cause, princess?"

"Certainly not."

"Are the others like you? Pardon me, there can be no others like you

for there could never be another so beautiful and fascinating as you

are. But are there others of your acquaintance high in position, who

are working for the cause as diligently as you are?"

"They are many. Their name is legion."

They parted then. He to go about his several duties among the

nihilistic sympathizers who could not return to Russia without

including Siberia in their itinerary, and she to stride across the room

and stand for a long time facing herself in the mirror, studying the

features of her own beautiful face in an effort to detect there the

fascinating qualities before which all men with whom she came in

contact seemed so ready to succumb.

But her eyes were cold and hard as she regarded her own reflection in

the glass. There was a fire in their depths which could have attracted

no man, and which would have repelled all alike, for it was threatening

and sombre.

Zara de Echeveria almost hated herself at that moment. Hated the beauty

which gave her such power, and which exerted the magic that made slaves

of men.

The hour came when she entered a carriage again to be driven to the

steamship wharf; when she stood upon the deck near the rail, and gazed,

as she honestly believed, over the house tops of a city she would never

see again.

Fate, however, had builded differently for her, although she did not

guess it; and she was going now to meet it as fast as the throbbing

engines of the mechanical monster could bear her forward.

When the great bulk of the vessel swung into the current of the North

river, and she turned her eyes once more toward the wharf it had left,

a waving hand attracted her attention, and she recognized the tall form

of Alexis Saberevski as he bade her adieu. Beside him on the pier was

another figure, as tall and as straight as Saberevski's, and she saw

them turn away together and walk up the pier until they were lost in

the crowd.

She did not know, then, that the other tall figure of a man was the one

into whose arms she was fleeing, even though she left him there,

unknown, upon that North river wharf, while she sailed away to the

other side of the world.