Princess Zara

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"It means that you are to be protected from the hands of your friends,"

I replied. "It means that I know that the nihilists would take your

life as soon as they know that betrayal of those who were waiting for

me came from your home. I do not propose that they shall have such an

opportunity. It means that I am going to place you for a time where no

harm can come to you, and that not one of them will know where you

are."

"But how, how have you the authority to do all this?"

"Did I not tell you that I am in the service of the czar?"

"Of my worst enemy, yes."

"Is it not wise to compel your enemies to do your service?"

"Can I accept a service from one whom I hate as I do him?"

"I think so, if your life and mine are both dependent upon that

service."

"But where are we going?"

"To the Vladek prison."

"I? Zara de Echeveria, to prison?"

"Yes."

"And you?"

"To the same place."

"How long are we to be detained there?"

"Only a sufficient time for us to pass through it and take our

departure by another door, to enter another carriage, and to be driven

to the house of a friend."

"Ah! I begin to understand. To whose house, then?"

"To the house of Prince Michael."

"I cannot go there! Oh, indeed, I cannot go there!"

"You must disappear for a time, Zara. The prince is my friend and

yours; more than that, he loves you, and better than all, he is a

prince among men as well as a Prince in rank. Will you not still trust

me?"

She sighed and said no more, but as the britzska dashed onward she

nestled closer to me, as though she found comfort in the thought that

the authority was taken out of her hands, and when at last we came to a

stop before the prison doors, she whispered: "I trust you. Do with me as you will. I will obey."

Within the prison, I found Canfield awaiting me, and I gave him and

Coyle a few hurried instructions; but we were soon on the road again,

and in due time arrived at the house of the prince, we passing in by a

side entrance. Presently, courtly and grave, but as white as mental

suffering can render the face of a man, he came to us.

"You are welcome," he said, extending his hand, first to her and then

to me. "The house is at your disposal, princess, and I need not say

that there are no servants here to spy on you. I know them all, and

your presence will be as secret as the grave."