tisfy.

"The story, the story," she repeated, "tell me the story!"

Her face was as white as marble and her faultless lips seemed chiseled
from stone. She looked so beautiful and tempting as she stood there, her
surpassing loveliness enhanced by the picturesque half-oriental,
half-Parisian dress she wore, that the Viscount felt his passion for her
redoubled. He flung himself at her feet and seizing the hem of her
superb robe kissed it rapturously.

"Oh! Zuleika, Zuleika," he cried, utterly unable to restrain himself, "I
am your slave! Place your tiny foot upon my neck and crush me where I
lie! I shall expire adoring you!"

"Giovanni," replied Zuleika, greatly moved by this display of devotion,
"rise and be a man!"

The Italian sprang up as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt; then he
endeavored to clasp her in his arms, but she quietly repulsed him.

"Zuleika," cried he, sadly, "you do not love me; you never loved me; I
have been the victim of a cruel deception!"

"If you think so," answered the young girl, quietly, "there is but one
course you can pursue as a man of honor--spurn the deceiver from you and
never look upon her face again!"

The young man gazed at her reproachfully.

"What have I done to turn you thus against me?" he asked, his tone
suddenly becoming humble.

"What have you done? You refuse to reveal this mystery to me, which, as
you yourself admit, involves deceit, treachery and bloodshed, and which,
for aught I know, has set an indelible stain upon your life! I love you
truly, love you with all the passion of a woman's nature, but I must
know this history that I may judge whether you are worthy of my love!"

"I assure you, Zuleika, that there is no stain upon my life, that there
is nothing in this history that tends in the least to dishonor me, but
still I cannot speak."

"Then we must separate."

"Oh! Zuleika, Zuleika, do not be pitiless! You will drive me mad!"

The young girl touched a bell and Ali, the Nubian, appeared.

"Monsieur is about taking his departure," said she to the faithful
servant. "I leave him in your hands."

And without a word of farewell to Giovanni, she swept from the salon
like a queen.

The Viscount gazed after her with indescribable sadness pictured upon
his handsome countenance. Then he followed Ali, put on his overcoat and
hat and regretfully left the house.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE MINUTE VIALS.

Even to the Communists, with whom he had come int