Princess Zara

"Our friends are becoming very impatient, Zara."

"Zara!" I unconsciously repeated the name after him, but it was under

my breath, so that not a sound escaped me. Who could this man be who

dared to address my princess by her given name, for in my secret soul

she was my princess still, even though she had already said enough to

convince me that she was an enemy to the czar whom I was serving.

"Let them. They must wait," she responded, with decision. "I will not

be hurried. They are sworn to obey me. Tell them to await my pleasure.

It is enough."

"There are some among them--you know who they are--who chafe under this

restraint, Zara. I am afraid that they will get beyond your control

unless something is done speedily."

"Let those who are loyal to me serve them as they would serve

Alexander, if there is any sign of insubordination," was the haughty

rejoinder. "Such is my order; and now, Ivan, you must go. Stay though!

What of Jean Morét?"

"He is dead."

"Dead? Do you know that to be true?"

"No. He has disappeared from the palace, nobody knows whither. He has

not gone to Siberia and our agents cannot find him in the city prisons.

We have made every effort. Doubtless he betrayed himself in some manner

and was quietly put out of the way."

"I will investigate the matter. He might have betrayed us, if caught

and put to the torture. I can make Prince Michael tell me. Morét was

more fool than knave, and he might have been induced to talk."

"He might have betrayed us; he would never betray you, Zara."

"I do not think so; and yet, it may be that I have gone too far with

him. It is plain that I must make my prince talk."

Her prince! God! How the expression rankled! What revelations this

overheard conversation was bringing to pass! From being in the seventh

heaven of bliss, transported there by the few moments I had passed in

the society of Zara, I was now plunged into the hell of doubt,

uncertainty, and disillusionment. She spoke of "her prince"--and there

could be no possible doubt that she referred to Prince Michael--as if

he were already a mere puppet in her hands, to bow before her and fawn

at her feet, as she willed it. And the prince, great and noble by

instinct and nature, who had with such dignity admitted to me his love

for her, was having his feelings and his affections played upon as a

skilled performer touches the keys of a piano.

It was a new and unsuspected phase of Zara's character thus unfolded to

me; and it was a most disquieting one. Standing with her as I had done

among her guests, seated beside her as I had been for a few moments

before I left her to go into the garden, I had believed in her as a

devout worshipper believes in his deity, thinking no evil, believing

that she could do no wrong, and placing her upon a pedestal that was

high above all of the petty considerations of ordinary humanity. And

then, as if to add to the sudden pain that was in my heart, this man

who dared to address her by her given name, and whom she called Ivan,

chuckled aloud as he remarked with unwonted intimacy: "You have only to encourage him a little, Zara. The prince will talk.

Never fear. Your power----"