ating coolness and method of her
Russian ancestors. Hence the paradox.

Presently she raised her eyes to mine.

"Dubravnik," she said slowly, "there is one way of escape for you; and
there is only one."

"What is that?" I asked.

"You must become a nihilist."

"I had thought of that," I returned coolly. For, indeed, I had thought
of it, although not at all from the motive she understood me to mean.

"You had thought of it?" she cried. "Do you say that earnestly, or only
to lead me on?"

"Was it not this very point that you were discussing with your brother
when you entered the garden last night, princess?" I asked, recalling
the mention of my name between them at that time.

"Yes; I had said to him that you were the kind of a man who should be
added to our ranks. I think you must have heard his reply."

"Yes."

"Do you know what nihilism is, Mr. Dubravnik?"

"No. I have always regarded it as a dangerous organization; morally
dangerous, I mean. You must not think that I have considered joining it
for any other reason than to place myself in a position where I will
feel that it is my duty to respect the confidence that I stole from
you, rather than to betray it."

"Then you never had such a thought until you knew I was a nihilist?"

"Never."

"And you would join us for my sake?"

"No."

"For whose, then?"

"For the sake of the czar."

"Ah! You would join only to betray them all into the hands of the
police! That is what you mean."

Zara leaped to her feet. Her whole manner underwent a change and for
the instant she was completely dominated by a furious scorn which found
its expression in every single pose of the attitude she assumed. Her
eyes blazed with the sudden anger she felt at me, brought about more by
the thought which came to her that I, whom she had stooped to admire,
was nothing but a spy. A torrent of words rushed to her lips, at least
her appearance was that she was on the point of denouncing me most
bitterly; but I raised a hand and interrupted her, bending slightly
forward, and speaking with sharp decision, although coolly, and with
studied conciseness of expression.

"No," I said. "If I should become a nihilist, it would be to protect
the emperor, not to betray your friends."

Again her entire manner underwent a change. As if she thoroughly
believed me, the fury of scorn left her eyes, the angry glitter of them
ceased, the rigidity of her attitude relaxed, and I saw that she was