Princess Zara

"Yes."

"Do you know what nihilism is, Mr. Dubravnik?"

"No. I have always regarded it as a dangerous organization; morally

dangerous, I mean. You must not think that I have considered joining it

for any other reason than to place myself in a position where I will

feel that it is my duty to respect the confidence that I stole from

you, rather than to betray it."

"Then you never had such a thought until you knew I was a nihilist?"

"Never."

"And you would join us for my sake?"

"No."

"For whose, then?"

"For the sake of the czar."

"Ah! You would join only to betray them all into the hands of the

police! That is what you mean."

Zara leaped to her feet. Her whole manner underwent a change and for

the instant she was completely dominated by a furious scorn which found

its expression in every single pose of the attitude she assumed. Her

eyes blazed with the sudden anger she felt at me, brought about more by

the thought which came to her that I, whom she had stooped to admire,

was nothing but a spy. A torrent of words rushed to her lips, at least

her appearance was that she was on the point of denouncing me most

bitterly; but I raised a hand and interrupted her, bending slightly

forward, and speaking with sharp decision, although coolly, and with

studied conciseness of expression.

"No," I said. "If I should become a nihilist, it would be to protect

the emperor, not to betray your friends."

Again her entire manner underwent a change. As if she thoroughly

believed me, the fury of scorn left her eyes, the angry glitter of them

ceased, the rigidity of her attitude relaxed, and I saw that she was

regarding me with an expression of wondering amazement, in which pity,

and longing, not unmixed with admiration, were dominant. She was silent

for the moment, but she kept her eyes fixed upon mine, and gradually

they began to glow with that fire of enthusiasm which no argument can

ever hope to overcome. Looking upon her I realized that if she were not

a nihilist at heart, she had become one by reason of some great mental

cataclysm through which she had passed. I believed then, and I was to

know later, that I was correct, and that nothing at present apparent

could swerve her from her set purpose, or could influence her against

the cause she had undertaken, and was now upholding, so valiantly. The

spasms of remorse that rushed upon her at times, and such feelings of

repugnance as I had heard her express in the garden, were only oases

in the desert of her perverted judgment, engendered in her very soul by

some terrible calamity through which she had personally passed, or

regarding which she had been a close observer. When she spoke again, it

was with low-toned softness, and she glided a step or two nearer to me,

raising her beautiful eyes, now softened to an appealing quality, and

clasping her hands in front of her with a gesture of suppliant

helplessness that was almost overwhelming.