which he had himself resigned.

He would have long hours to sit and think the thoughts that drive men
to insanity or self-destruction.

"Yes, but one can care in different ways, and you have done so many
things for me."

The man drew in his breath sharply. The knife was in her hand now, but
she had stabbed unconsciously. He knew that she spoke quite simply,
thinking only of his care for her physical well-being.

Truly he had done things, things that he would have given several years
of life to undo.

Now he had that for which he craved,--the assurance that she cared,
that she would miss him. Still he did not delude himself. He knew
that what she felt towards him was not the love between a woman and her
mate, but the affection of dependence, of habit. Yet for such as it
was his soul uttered thanksgiving. Any other woman gifted with a less
sweet nature would have felt for him nothing but hatred, but in
Fatalite's mind neither spite nor malice ever found a place. The petty
vices of womankind had never been hers. He knew now that he had been
something to her, and that knowledge would make sunshine for him even
in the shadow of a prison. It gave him courage also to play out the
tragi-comedy to the end, to make a brave jest, to lie convincingly.

"We needn't make each other eternal adieux, _mon enfant_. You must not
take all I said about Siberian dungeons _au serieux_. Russia isn't
quite as dangerous as it's made out to be. Of course the police keep a
watch more or less on the 'suspects,' but we know all their tricks, and
how to avoid them. Plenty of us go to St. Petersburg and even to Kara
and come back again. The Schlusselburg fortress is about the only
place we haven't succeeded in getting out of yet. It's fairly easy to
manage a false passport. You can write to me at the address I've given
you."

* * * * * *

It was all over now, and he was alone. He had taken both her hands for
an instant, and felt the convulsive clinging of the thin fingers. He
had longed to kiss them, but dared not trust himself. His words were
only such as might have been used by anyone of the Brotherhood.

"_Au revoir, camarade_!"

"_Au revoir_!"

Her tears were falling still, though she answered him steadily enough.

Then she turned away, pulling down her veil, and he saw her grope
blindly for the fastening of the door. It shut gently behind her, and
he was alone. He sat down by the