Princess Zara

When our lips were not in contact, our eyes were; they were gazing into

the utmost depths of each other's soul, reading and understanding all

that was mutually expressed, charmed and fascinated by the beauteous

panoramic scenes which flittered in love-phantoms past our prophetic

vision.

"My love! my love!" she murmured over and over again, as if it were all

she could utter, and as if with the use of that expression all things

were said and done; and I replied as inevitably and comprehensively.

It sounds inane enough in the telling of it, but meaningless phrases

and abrupt expressions may, at certain moments in our lives, express

everything.

Time became a blank; the world was blotted out; existence was only an

incident; we, ourselves, with our bodies, our energies, our

capabilities, had become mere atoms in the immensity of that greatest

of all God's creations, Love.

There were murderers waiting in the street to do me to death; I thanked

God for their presence, since because of it, Zara had been brought to

the confession and expression of her love for me. She was a nihilist

queen and she had played with the affections of men in order to stupefy

them to her purposes, as demanded by the cause she served; but I also

thanked God for that, because its consideration and my deep resentment

had made plain to me the real power and passion of this abundantly

glorious woman, now swayed by only one impulse, love for me.

But, however enthralling they may be, all impulses must have an end.

However complete may be love's expression, there is a limit to its

continuance; I mean that silent form of expression which proclaims

itself only in soul communion.

It was a period of almost utter unconsciousness, since we were both

conscious of only one thing while it lasted; but the reaction came at

last while she was still relaxed in my embrace, and while yet the

mystifying magic induced by contact with her, enveloped me, body and

soul.

"Zara," I said, half whispering the word now so unutterably sweet to

me, "you will leave Russia now--with me?"

The question brought us both to our senses, with a start, and my

princess drew away from me a little, and said, with a whimsical smile: "A little while ago, my love, you ordered me to leave Russia, alone;

now you order me away again, but under guard. I think I will obey you

in this last order you have given me. Whenever you will it, I will go."

"And leave behind you all that you have hitherto thought so much about,

Zara?" I asked, brought back by her statement to a realization of the

conditions by which we were surrounded. She replied without hesitation,

and with a finality that was complete: "Yes."