Princess Zara

Zara left her place beside me on the divan, and stood facing me, near

the center table, and in the intensity of her story, lowered her voice

perceptibly. She bent forward a little, unconsciously throwing over me

the same sort of spell that now dominated her. In my own eagerness I

leaned forward, my right elbow resting upon my knee, and with bated

breath, waited for her to continue. When she did resume, it was with a

suppressed intensity that is indescribable.

"This is what the old servant told you: An hour after midnight there

was a peremptory summons at the door, and when he opened it he

discovered beyond the threshold, one of those terrible details of

fiends which the Third Section sends out on its foulest errands; but he

did not dream that they were after your sister; he only thought that

you were in trouble. The officer in charge went straight to the door of

your sister's room, as if he were as familiar with the internal

arrangements of the house, as were its regular inmates. He threw the

door ajar without warning, and followed by the scoundrels who

accompanied him, entered the room where your sister was in bed.

Sleeping innocence was aroused by a brutal command. Your sister, as

pure, as sweet, as guiltless of wrong, as beautiful in spirit as the

angels in heaven, was dragged from her bed by the rough hands of those

human devils. Her shrieks and cries, were answered by jeers. Her

piteous appeal that they would leave the room until she clothed

herself, was refused with curses. She was compelled to dress in their

presence, underneath the blazing glare of every light in the room, and

before the eyes of those inhuman wretches whose gloating, bloodshot

gaze befouled her sweet purity, as a drop of filth will befoul a limpid

spring."

"If you had entered the room at that moment, and the czar had been

there, would you have killed him, Dubravnik? Have you a sister? Answer!

Would you have killed the czar, if he had been there? THE CZAR WAS

THERE!"

Zara raised herself to her full stature as she cried aloud this

statement. Her right hand was raised high above her head; her attitude

was one of righteous denouncement, and the wrath of an outraged goddess

glowed like living fire, in every attribute of her being. Then she came

a step nearer to me, and continued: "He was there in the spirit of the outrage. He creates and upholds the

law which permitted it. Yes, you would have killed him, and you would

not have called it murder. You would have given the deed another name;

you would have called it retribution. I see it in your face; it flashes

in your eyes. I am not telling you a romance, in order to excite your

compassion, or to create sympathy. I am relating an actual occurrence.

I am telling you the story that made me a nihilist."