o St. Petersburg and seeking audience with his majesty,
acting thereby under the suggestion made by my friend, I proposed to
the czar the organization of a certain band of men whose duty it has
been, and is, and will continue to be until it is successful, to drive
organized nihilism out of Russia."

"You can never do that," said Zara, with fine contempt.

"I can do it. It shall be done."

She tore herself from my grasp and leaped to her feet, darting across
the room and placing the table between us, with a motion so quick that
she was beyond my reach before I could detain her. I had expected from
her violent action, an outburst of words; but it did not come. Instead,
she stood calmly beyond the table, leaning gently upon it with one
hand, and gazed across the space that separated us, while she said,
coolly, and not without contempt:

"Complete your story, Dubravnik. It interests me. I shall be glad
indeed to hear it, finding as I now do, that I have permitted myself to
fall in love with a professional spy."

[Illustration: "I HAVE PERMITTED MYSELF TO FALL IN LOVE WITH A
PROFESSIONAL SPY" (Page 208)]

God! how her tone hurt me! How the words she uttered pierced me! How
the contemptuous scorn in her voice and manner, tore to shreds the
fabric of a beatific existence I had created in my imagination! A
moment ago, confident of her love, her admiration, and her esteem, I
saw now, when it was too late, that the very announcement of my
profession had destroyed it, with a stroke as deadly as the knife of an
assassin in the heart of his victim.

And I understood, also, why my statement should have had such an effect
upon her. Reared as she had been, in the society of St. Petersburg;
taught from her cradle to hate and despise, as well as to fear, a spy;
educated in utter abhorrence of everything that pertains to that class,
at the Russian capital, she could look upon me, now, only with horror
and loathing. I was that thing she had most despised. I was that
monstrosity of creation, which, calling itself a man, was, according to
Zara's lights, without principal, honor, integrity, or manhood.

I stood before her, not with bowed head, as perhaps I might have done
had my true feelings been expressed, but with bowed and stricken heart,
suddenly aware that I had gained the glory of her love only to lose it,
and in a manner which carried with it no redress.

"I have completed an organization of men, Zara," I went on, calmly, an