"Quite."

"Not even----"

"No, not even that to which you refer, or are about to refer. I have had plenty of time for thought, since you brought me here, and I have unraveled the fact that I made a consummate fool of myself. I will not deny that I still love her, or that I probably always will love her, but I know that she never did, and never will, love me. That ends it, you see, and so I am glad to get away."

"Was it the princess, Jean?" I asked.

"You have been very good to me, Mr. Derrington, and I ought to deny you nothing. Still I hope you will not ask me to tell you anything concerning the woman I was foolish enough to love so madly."

"I honor you for that expression, Jean, and I will ask you only one question. You can reply to it readily enough. Do you love her still, and well enough, so that you wish her every happiness? So well that you cherish no ill will against her for what she did to you?"

"I would give up my liberty, now, to be a.s.sured that she might always be happy; yes, even to know that she has broken with the nihilists; for sooner or later they would lead her to Siberia. Will you answer one question for me, Mr. Derrington?"

"Willingly."

"Has she been arrested?" He did not appreciate the confession involved in his question.

"No; and she will not be. She has also broken with the nihilists. And, Moret, I wish you to know that I honor you for not telling me her name.

I know to whom you refer."

He was silent a moment, until with some confusion in his manner, he said:

"I would like to shake hands with you, Mr. Derrington. You are a good man, and in whatever country Jean Moret finds a home, there you will always find a friend of yours."

We had some other conversation, and then I gave him his pa.s.sports, together with sufficient money for his needs. I personally conducted him from the place of imprisonment, and we finally parted in the street. That was the last I ever saw of Jean Moret, but whatever his ultimate fate, I knew him to be a man of sterling qualities.

From there I made my way to the office of my friend Canfield, where it was arranged that I should receive the reports of my men, and there, closeted with Canfield, I remained until daylight. Messengers were coming and going constantly, and I knew long before dawn that every plan that I had laid had worked out just as I intended it should. I knew that when the sun rose, there would not be a half dozen real nihilists at liberty in St. Petersburg, and that the order would be paralyzed and broken throughout the empire. To just one portion of the night's work, I paid particular personal attention, and that was to the arrest and disposition of those who knew Zara and Ivan, personally, and who were aware of her condemnation to death by the order. Many of those who were arrested that night, were sent to Siberia for life, and others, for long terms of imprisonment; but I could not be criticised for that, for they one and all deserved to go. I was yet to meet with an adventure before I returned to the emperor, however.

After leaving Canfield I sought an interview with O'Malley. I found that without going out of my way, I could pa.s.s the residence of the prince, where I believed Zara to be peacefully sleeping, for I knew that Durnief must have suffered arrest before there was opportunity for him to carry out the czar's order. I had taken the precaution to instruct Coyle, early in the evening, to place a good watch on the house, fearing there might be a chance that one of the spies of the nihilists had succeeded in following us, and that they might attempt an attack upon her, there. Of Durnief, I had not thought again, for when the czar told me that he had been sent after the princess, I had every confidence that the man would be arrested before he could gain admittance to Zara's presence. Later, at Canfield's office, I had received the report that he had been taken.

It was just breaking day as I approached the house, and I could see that a light was burning in the room where I had left her. I decided at once that she had determined to remain in that room, and had probably not thought of retiring. I could not criticise such a reluctance, under the circ.u.mstances; and while I was congratulating myself upon the fact that she would not have to pa.s.s such another night as this one, I saw the front door swing suddenly open, and the form of a woman in whom I instantly recognized Zara, ran down the steps and leaped into a waiting _droshka_, which had hitherto escaped my notice. Instantly the horses started away at a gallop. I was two hundred feet distant. There was not a person in sight, for Coyle, believing, doubtless, that all danger was past, had withdrawn his guard.

There are times in our lives when peril, in threatening a loved one, brings out the best there is in a man, and renders him suddenly capable of coping with any emergency. I knew of but one way to stop those horses, and I used it. Always a good shot, I drew my revolver, aimed it at the nearest horse, and pulled the trigger. Then, before the sound of the first report had lost itself along the street, I fired again. One of the horses pitched forward, shot through the brain, I knew; the other fell upon the first, and I ran forward at all speed, towards the wrecked and overturned _droshka_.

CHAPTER XXII

THE COMBAT IN THE SNOW

As I ran, I saw an officer in uniform leap from the interior of the _droshka_, and draw his sword in preparation for my attack, while his _yemschik_, whip in hand, scrambled from the snow, and a.s.sumed a place beside him. They evidently supposed the attack to be of a very different character than it really was. The wounded horse was struggling and kicking, and I found time to think of the grave danger that its hoofs might injure Zara, whom I judged to be unconscious from fright, or because of the shock; and so, heedless of my own necessities in undertaking an a.s.sault upon the two men who now faced me, I fired a third bullet into the maddened animal. Then, as I sprang to the attack, I saw and recognized the man who confronted me, and my heart bounded with thanksgiving that I had taken that route to the palace. I recognized Alexis Durnief.

The report of his arrest had been false, or he had managed in some way to escape; and even then, in that instant of rushing onward upon the two men, I could not help wondering by what means he had managed to entice Zara from the house in which she had taken refuge. I had two bullets remaining in my revolver; at least I thought so, and I raised it, and pulled the trigger a fourth time, thus placing the _yemschik_ effectually out of that combat, and rendering it impossible for him ever to engage in others; and then, when barely ten feet away from the scoundrelly captain, I leveled the weapon at him and ordered him to throw down his sword. He laughed derisively, for he was not a coward, and he knew that death would be far preferable to the fate that would be his, if he were captured alive.

"So! It is my friend Dubravnik, is it?" he said, insolently, but in a tone as cool as though he were greeting me in a ballroom. "You have killed my horses, and my _yemschik_; why not do the same for me?"

I hesitated.

To shoot a man like that, was against every impulse of my soul; and yet he was armed with a weapon as deadly as mine, if once I should get within reach of its point. I possessed none with which to meet him on even ground. But, inside the _droshka_, was unquestionably the unconscious form of the woman I loved. The occasion was a crisis. There could be no temporizing. Zara must be rescued.

"Throw down your sword, or I will certainly kill you!" I commanded him, again.

"Kill," he replied, laconically. There was no other way, and I pulled the trigger.

There was no report. Durnief did not fall, as the horses, and his _yemschik_ had done. He stood unharmed, for the cartridge was bad, or the chamber of my revolver was unloaded. Instantly he understood that he had me at his mercy, and with a deadly smile upon his face he leaped forward to run me through.

As he sprang towards me, I hurled the pistol with all my strength towards him. It struck him squarely in the breast, staggering him, and forcing him off his guard. Then, before he could recover, I sprang past the point of his weapon. I seized his sword arm, by the wrist, with my left hand, and threw my other arm around his body. We were as evenly matched as though we had trained at weights and measurements for the combat, and for a moment we struggled madly together, while I exerted all my strength to bend his wrist backward, so that he would be compelled to drop his sword.

It seems strange that such a struggle, taking place in the streets of a great city immediately following upon the four reports of my pistol, had not attracted attention and drawn somebody to the scene, but the pa.s.sing night had been one of terror; policemen had been called away from their posts, and at that hour, just after dawn, when everything was quiet, n.o.body heard, or if they heard, feared to come. In using all my effort to compel him to drop his weapon I neglected the other necessary points of the struggle, and although I succeeded in my design, he forced me backwards at the same instant so that I fell beneath him, but I still had my right arm tightly clasped around him, and I hugged him to me with all the strength that I could master. With Durnief, it was a struggle for life, liberty, and everything that he possessed, and he fought with all the desperation of a madman. With me, it was life, and the woman I loved, and I fought coolly, knowing that he could not get away from me, believing that I could tire him out, and satisfied that I could prevent him from securing his sword again. He managed to wrench his hand from my grasp, and he struck me a savage blow on the head with his fist, but I threw the other arm around him then, and hugged him all the tighter, so that he was unable to repeat the blow.

It was a strange combat. A person ten feet away could not have heard it, for there was no sound save our heavy breathing. The snow deadened every noise that might have been made otherwise. The air was bitterly cold.

Presently I became conscious of the fact that my opponent was striving with all his might to force me in a certain direction, and I correctly conjectured that he had been able to discover the location of the sword and was making an attempt to reach it. So I bent my energies to avoiding his effort. My life had been largely one of adventure, and I had taken part in many combats, but never before in one like this where it was simply a matter of endurance, where neither party to the fray was suffering injury, and where the hope of success was so evenly divided. Odd as it may seem, while pinioning him thus so that he could not act on the offensive, I began to conjecture how long we might hold out, and the probability of a.s.sistance arriving to end it; and it was the uncertainty of the nature of that a.s.sistance that concerned me most.

I have said that there were not half a dozen confessed nihilists remaining at liberty in St. Petersburg, but there were hundreds, ay, thousands of nihilistic sympathizers, and there were hundreds of others who had become allied to the nihilists in some extrinsic way, who were in sympathy with the order, even if only pa.s.sively so. If one or more of such were to happen along the a.s.sistance would surely be upon the side of my enemy, and certain defeat and death would be my portion. If a mere citizen were to interfere, the captain who still wore his uniform, would secure the proffered aid, not I. He would be believed, not I, and hence I understood that whatever advantage there might be in the way of interference, was on his side. Appreciating these facts, I exerted my strength to the utmost to turn the tide of battle in my favor, but I could accomplish nothing. He was as strong as I, though not more powerful, and so I relapsed again into the mere effort to hold him helpless, and to take the chances of wearing him out before a.s.sistance should come.

It seemed to me as though an hour pa.s.sed thus; in reality, it may have been only a few moments, for minutes are long under such circ.u.mstances; and then there came an interruption--and a strange one.

"With whom are you struggling, Captain Durnief?" I heard a voice say.

"Zara!" I exclaimed, before Durnief could reply.

"With an a.s.sa.s.sin who has shot our horses, murdered the _yemschik_, and who would a.s.sa.s.sinate you, princess," panted Durnief.

"Zara!" I called to her again. "It is I--Dubravnik."

I heard her gasp, and although I could not see her, I was conscious that she deliberately walked around us, probably to obtain a better view of me; and in that moment I think I doubted her; but I tightened my grip around the man I held, and waited grimly for events to shape themselves.

"Dubravnik?" she said, in a low tone, as if she were not convinced; but I did not speak again; and the captain also remained silent. Minutes, which seemed like hours, pa.s.sed in another deathlike silence, broken only by the panting of Durnief. I wondered if Zara had fainted, or had gone for help, or what! There seemed to be no good reason for the silence, and the waiting. Why did she not grasp the sword, and send its point through one of us? It did not much matter to me, then, which one she might choose for its sheath.

Soon, however, I heard a sound directly above me--a sound which a stick might make in smiting the ground, and I felt that Durnief shuddered. In another instant it came again, and his arms relaxed, but only to tighten about me the more convulsively. Then a short pause, which was followed by the thudding sound of a blow heavier than its predecessors, and instantly following it, the tensioned muscles of Durnief relaxed.

His arms fell from their clasp around me. I pushed him aside as though he were dead, and for a moment believed that he was; then springing upright, to my feet, I was just in time to catch the tottering form of my princess, who, though not unconscious, had spent her last remaining strength in that third blow. Her left hand held Durnief's sword. In her right was the _mujik's_ whip, and I saw that she had used the stock of it to aid me.

"I stood for a long time, with the sword pressed against his back, where it would have pierced his heart," she murmured in my ear, while she clung to me. "I wanted to kill him, but I could not do it. Then I found the _yemschik's_ whip, but I had not the strength to strike. Do you wonder why I left the house? The _yemschik_ came to get me. He brought a note, signed by you. It said that my brother had been wounded, and was at my house; that it was safe for me to go there now.

I hastened. I ran to the _droshka_, and sprang inside before I knew that it was occupied. Durnief was there. He seized me. Something was wrapped around my head, and I lost consciousness, I think. Then I heard sounds, as if men were fighting, and I crawled from the overturned _droshka_, and saw you two struggling together, in the snow. I was dazed, frightened, and very weak. I did not remember what had happened; I did not recognize you. I thought, at first, that it was Durnief whom I should a.s.sist, and I stood there, watching the struggle for a long time, trying to remember. Then recollection came, for I heard your voice. It recalled to me my senses. I remembered who Dubravnik was. Is it not strange that I should have forgotten? Even for a moment, is it not strange that I should have forgotten?"

"No, dear, no," I replied.

"Then I found the sword, in the snow. I remembered that I wanted to kill Durnief, and I put the point against his back. But I could not press upon it. I tried, but I could not do it. It was horrible, Dubravnik, horrible. I tried a second time, and the point of the sword was actually piercing his clothing, when my eyes fell upon the whip. I secured it. There! See! He is reviving. Seize him, for he must not escape."

CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT THE CZAR FORGOT