unfairly, he murdered.

"News of that came to the Emperor. My husband was tried, and, the case
being well known to the public, it was necessary to convict him for the
sake of example. Then, on the day set for his beheading, the Emperor
reprieved him. The hour for the execution passed, and, being now free
for the time, he fled the country. He went to Africa, and there he so
disgraced the state that bore him that of late times I hear he has been
sent for to come back to Austria. Even yet the Emperor may suspend the
reprieve and send him to the block for his ancient crime. If he had a
thousand heads, he could not atone for the worse crimes he has done!

"But of him, and of his end, I know nothing. So, now, you see, I was and
am wed, and yet am not wed, and never was. I do not know what I am, nor
who I am. After all, I can not tell you who I am, or what I am, because
I myself do not know.

"It was now no longer safe for me in my own country. They would not let
me go to my father any more. As for him, he went on with his studies,
some part of his mind being bright and clear. They did not wish him
about the court now. All these matters were to be hushed up. The court
of England began to take cognizance of these things. Our government was
scandalized. They sent my father, on pretext of scientific errands, into
one country and another--to Sweden, to England, to Africa, at last to
America. Thus it happened that you met him. You must both have been very
near to meeting me in Montreal. It was fate, as we of Hungary would say.

"As for me, I was no mere hare-brained radical. I did not go to Russia,
did not join the revolutionary circles of Paris, did not yet seek out
Prussia. That is folly. My father was right. It must be the years, it
must be the good heritage, it must be the good environment, it must be
even opportunity for all, which alone can produce good human beings! In
short, believe me, a victim, _the hope of the world is in a real
democracy_. Slowly, gradually, I was coming to believe that."

She paused a moment. "Then, one time, Monsieur,--I met you, here in this
very room! God pity me! You were the first man I had ever seen. God
pity me!--I believe I--loved you--that night, that very first night! We
are friends. We are brave. You are man and gentleman, so I may say that,
now. I am no longer woman. I am but sacrifice.

"Opportunity must exist, open and free for all the world," she went on,
not looking at me more tha