r,
to heed what I have said."

"You have forgotten----" She began impetuously to answer, but he
unclasped one hand from hers, long enough to make a warning gesture,
and enunciated the one word: "Hush! Remember, Zara, you are not to
speak until I have finished, and then upon a different subject. But I
will answer your unspoken thought, for I read it in your manner. I have
not forgotten your little friend Yvonne; nor Stanislaus, her brother.
Indeed, my child, this very scene reminds me of it, and renders all the
more imperative the duty I am seeking to perform. Let the terrible fate
of that poor girl appeal to you. Let the awful end of Stanislaus be a
warning. Vengeance should have no part or place in your heart, even
though you believe that they cry out to you from their graves to
undertake it. But they do not do that, Zara, and if either or both of
them could speak now, they would voice the sentiments I have expressed,
and emphasize the warnings I have given. Go back to your home in St.
Petersburg, my child, and leave politics alone. Alexander, the czar,
admires you and esteems you, but I who am his friend, warn you that the
admiration and esteem of monarchs can be no more relied upon than the
shifting fogs of the Gulf of Finland."

Again Princess Zara would have spoken, for her dark eyes lighted with a
sudden fire and she half started from her chair with an eagerness that
was impetuously expressive. But Saberevski retained his clasp upon her
hands, and without seeming to do so, restrained her where she was;
after a moment he added:

"Now, if you please we will change the subject. My duty as I saw it,
has been performed, and nothing remains to be said. In a few moments I
will leave you, and when I do so, we will probably part for the last
time. Now, Zara, tell me something about yourself."

There was a suspicion of tears in her upturned eyes as she looked at
him from out of their glowing depths, but she took him at his word, and
with a visible effort brought back the smile to her countenance as he
returned to his chair at the opposite side of the table.

"There is little to tell you of myself, Saberevski," she replied, while
he helped himself to another cigarette. "You know what my life is, even
though you have been absent from home almost a year."

"Yes," he said, smiling, "one round of pleasures, and of conquest.
Adorers waiting for you on every hand; lovers perhaps----"

"No; not lovers," she interrupted him.