Princess Zara

"What was it, Zara, that you saw through the window when----" I did not

complete the sentence. It was not necessary. She understood me

instantly and with the understanding there returned to her a

realization of all the terrors by which we were at that moment

surrounded. We could love each other with a rhapsodical completeness,

in perfect security, so long as we remained together inside that room;

but beyond the walls of Zara's palatial home death stalked grimly,

waiting, waiting, waiting, for the moment to strike.

She withdrew from my embrace, slowly and tentatively, but surely, until

we no longer touched each other, and she gazed appealingly into my eyes

while the flush of love forsook her cheeks and brow, giving place to a

pallor of uncertainty and dread for me.

"I had forgotten," she murmured.

"Then continue to forget, my Zara," I whispered.

"No, we must not forget; we must remember." She raised her hand and

pointed toward the window. "Out there, Dubravnik, death waits for you.

I had forgotten. I had forgotten."

With a start she gained her feet and stood for a moment palpitatingly

uncertain, clasping and unclasping her hands, while her bosom rose and

fell in this stress of an utterly new emotion.

One whom she loved was threatened, now. The maternal instinct of

womankind is never more prominent than when it is exercised in the

protection of the man she loves, and who is destined to be the father

of her offspring. It is a grand and a noble sentiment, and no man lives

who will ever comprehend it; but when a man loves as I loved then, he

can appreciate its fullness, even though he may not understand it; he

can recognize its existence and presence, even though it would be

impossible for him to define it.

And it was the maternal instinct that governed her in that moment of

terrorized realization of the dangers which threatened me.

I had suddenly become her charge and care. She saw herself as

responsible for the conditions that menaced me, and she was like a wild

partridge sheltering its brood, and which will not hesitate to face any

peril for their protection.

I was always more or less indifferent, if not insensible, to danger. It

may not necessarily be bravery that refuses to recognize perils; it may

be an instinctive quality of dominance, and self-confidence which is

convinced of its power to overcome them.

I rose and stood beside her, putting my arm around her as we faced the

window from the opposite side of the room.

"Out there lies danger, Zara," I said smiling, "but here, in this room,

dwells happiness."

"There can be no happiness with death waiting for you outside," she

said, with sharp decision.

"Zara, my love!"