am not your wife, Velasco. Take your arms away."

"Your cheek is so soft, Kaya; the centre is like a red rose blushing.
Let me rest my cheek against it."

"Take your cheek away--Velasco."

"Your lips are arched like a bow, so red, so sweet! When I press
them--I press--them!"

"Velasco--Velasco! Take your lips--away!"

The girl half rose on her pillow, pushing him back; striking at him
feebly with her bare hands; "Go--don't touch me! I have been asleep--I
am mad! I am not your wife--Velasco! We must part at once--I tell
you, we must part!"

Velasco laughed: "Part!" he said, "You and I, Kaya?--Part? Have you
forgotten the church, the priest in his surplice, the dark nave and the
candles? We knelt side by side. You are my wife and I am your
husband. Kaya, we can never part in life or in death."

The girl put her hand to her breast: "It was only a 'Nihilistic
marriage,' Velasco, you know what that means! A mere form for the sake
of the certificate, the papers--just to show for the passport that we
might go together." Her voice came through her throat roughly as if it
hurt her.

Velasco laughed again shortly: "What is that to me?" he said, "We were
married; you are my wife. Put your hands down, Kaya--let me take you
in my arms. You know--throughout the journey, when we were tramping
through the snow and the cold, I treated you as a comrade, for your
sake. You asked it. You know--Kaya? And now--now we are in Germany;
we are gypsies no longer. You are the Countess and I am Velasco--your
husband, Kaya, your--husband."

He stretched out his arms to her, and his eyes were like sparks of
light under his brows, gleaming. His hands trembled: "Look at me,
Kaya, look at me. Why do you torment me?"

The girl thrust her hand slowly into the breast of her jacket and drew
out a paper. "You lost it," she said, "in the prison. I found it on
the floor. The--the certificate of our marriage. I swore that
night--if we reached the frontier I would--Velasco, don't touch me!--I
would destroy it!"

She held it away from him and her eyes gazed into his.

"You would never destroy it, Kaya!" He looked at her and then he gave a
cry: "Stop--Kaya!"

She had torn the paper across into strips and was flinging the pieces
from her; she was laughing. "You, my husband, Velasco? Are you mad?
The daughter of General Mezkarpin marry a musician! Our family is one
of the oldest in Russia and yours--!" She laughed again w