der about you; and had I
dealt with her only I should have thought that she might have expressed
herself as she did, and still have had the paper in her own keeping. I
could not read her mind as I could read his. Women will lie better than
men."
"But men can lie too," said Nina.
"Your cousin Ziska is a fool."
"He is a fox," said Nina.
"He is a fool in comparison with his mother. And I had him in my own
house, under my thumb, as it were. Of course he lied. Of course he
tried to deceive me. But, Nina, he believes that the document is here--
in your house. Whether it be there or not, Ziska thinks that it is
there."
"Ziska is more fox than fool," said Nina.
"Let that be as it may. I tell you the truth of him. He thinks it is
here. Now, Nina, you must search for it."
"It is not there, Anton. I tell you of my own knowledge, it is not in
the house. Come and search yourself. Come to-morrow. Come to-night, if
you will."
"It would be of no use. I could not search as you can do. Tell me,
Nina; has your father no place locked up which is not open to you?"
"Yes; he has his old desk; you know it, where it stands in the
parlour."
"You never open that?"
"No, never; but there is nothing there--nothing of that nature."
"How can you tell? Or he can keep it about his person?"
"He keeps it nowhere. He has not got it. Dear Anton, put it out of your
head. You do not know my cousin Ziska. That he has it in his own hands
I am now sure."
"And I, Nina, am sure that it is here in the Kleinseite--or at least
am sure that he thinks it to be so. The question now is this: Will you
obey me in what directions I may give you concerning it?" Nina could
not bring herself to give an unqualified reply to this demand on the
spur of the moment. Perhaps it occurred to her that the time for such
implicit obedience on her part had hardly yet come--that as yet at
least she must not be less true to her father than to her lover. She
hesitated, therefore, in answering him. "Do you not understand me,
Nina?" he said roughly. "I asked you whether you will do as I would
have you do, and you make no reply. We two, Nina, must be one in all
things, or else we must be apart--in all things."
"I do not know what it is you wish of me," she said, trembling.
"I wish you to obey me."
"But suppose--"
"I know that you must trust me first before you can obey me."
"I do trust you. You know that I trust you."
"Then you should obey me."
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