I have thought since that I was playing with myself, as well as with
her, at that time; that I was making a study of Zara's soul, rather
than of her character; I have believed, and I now believe, that even at
that moment I was madly in love with this half wild creature, outwardly
so tamed, and yet inwardly more than half a barbarian, with the blood
of her Tartar ancestors on the one side coursing hotly in her veins. I
wanted to know her. I wanted to bring her out of herself. My own
intuition recognized, and was making the most of a boundless and
limitless sympathy that existed between us two, although I was not at
the time conscious of the fact; a sympathy that found voice in Zara's
heart as well as in mine, and which needed but a touch, as of the spark
to grains of powder, to fire it into a blaze of love so absolute as to
sweep every other consideration from its path. My heart recognized
hers, and I was subconsciously aware that hers recognized mine. It may
be that I was playing two parts with her at that moment, the one being
that of my ostensible character, as an agent of the czar; the other
asserting itself as plain Dan Derrington, an American gentleman who was
very much in love.
"Do you suppose, even then, that they would believe you, and spare me?"
I asked, with unconcealed irony, forcing myself even against my will,
to render my question bitterly offensive.
"Yes, oh, yes! I would give myself as hostage for your honor. My life
would be forfeited, too, if you should not keep the oath."
I hesitated. The opportunity was an alluring one in a way, for it would
render the entire organization like an open book to me. But more than
all else was the communion of interest that would thus be created
between this peerless woman and me. Still, there were other things to
be considered. The danger I would thus incur might render impotent the
entire fabric that I had constructed with so much care; and truth to
tell I could not bring myself to the point of utilizing a woman's
confidence in order ultimately to betray her and her friends.
"I cannot take the oath, princess," I said, calmly.
"Think! think!" she exclaimed.
"I have thought. I cannot do it."
"Sit down again, Mr. Dubravnik. There is no danger as long as you
remain here. I wish to tell you something. I want you to know why I am
a nihilist; then, perhaps, you may be of a different opinion."
I obeyed her and she resumed her position on the couch, but her entire
manner had undergone another change. The contempt, the scorn, the anger
had all died out of her face which now assumed a retrospective
expression and when she next addressed me her eyes had in them a
dreamy, far away light, as though she were living in the past while she
recited the strange tale that thrilled me as nothing else ever had, or
ever has done.