ly.

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."

Ah, what maps of the world have been changed by that word yes. What
histories have been written because of its utterance, even in a
whispered tone, as hers was then.

"And your nihilists?" I asked her, still intent upon an even more
complete capitulation on her part.