THE SCORN OF A WOMAN
It seemed at that moment as if I could not deny her. Every impulse of
my soul cried out to me that it would be a very little thing to do,
after all.
It was not the danger which threatened, that influenced me, not at all
that; it was her own supplication. The danger, and our own necessities,
were very real for her, even if I, in my secret heart, made little of
them.
For a moment I think I was undecided, but then the full force of what
such an act would mean, the full realisation of what I would become in
my own eyes by so stultifying myself, brought me back to energy, and I
reached forward, grasping her, and drew her to her feet; I rising,
also.
"Zara," I said with deliberation, "once and for all, and for the last
time, we must not discuss such a thing. If I should take the oath of
nihilism, if I should even consider doing so, I could not look into my
mirror, save with horror. I am a man in the employ of his majesty, the
czar. I have given him my word of honor, as an American gentleman, to
do and perform certain things, and I will and must do and perform them
all. I should say, too, that he did not seek me, but that I sought him.
That is to say, he did not seek me with any knowledge on my part that
he did so, and I sought him while I was entirely ignorant that he even
guessed at my intent. Seeking him, I was brought into contact with him.
I have found him to be a man who is worthy of much admiration; a man
for whom I have infinite respect and esteem, notwithstanding the
charges you make against him, and the things of which you deem him
guilty." She made a gesture of repulsion, but I took no notice of it,
and went on. "I find now, Zara, in the light of what has occurred here
between us, and in the glory of our great love, that I must tell you
who and what I am, and how it happens that I am here with you, at this
moment." She bowed her head in acknowledgment of my statement, but made
no reply in words. She had changed wonderfully in the last few minutes,
and she was cold now, and distant, shocked, I thought, by this new
difficulty that had come between us at the very moment of our greatest
happiness. "I am Daniel Derrington, an American. I have been, for many
years in the past, in the service of my government as a diplomatic
agent and secret service officer; something very much after the
character of what you would call over here, a spy. Yet, in my country,
Zara, we have no spies, as you understand the term. My employment has
been an honorable one, and no man can defame it." She shrugged her
shoulders, and I went on rapidly. "In the operation of my duties, I
have visited St. Petersburg several times. From a distance, and as an
observer only, I have studied nihilism and the nihilist. Some time ago,
a friend of mine whose name perhaps you will recognize, came to me and
made a suggestion, which, having followed, has ended by my being here."
"Who was that man?" she asked.
"Alexis Saberevski."
She nodded.
"I know him," she said simply.
"In coming to 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, and
in a tone which I endeavored to render as monotonous as possible, "that
has for its purpose the undoing of nihilism, as it is now practiced.
That body of men extends, in its ramifications, throughout St.
Petersburg, and even to other cities of Russia. Its purpose, primarily,
is not to send conspirators to Siberia to suffer exile there, with all
the other horrors that go with it, but to----"
"Enough!" she interrupted me. "I have heard quite enough, Dubravnik!
What you say to me now, is meaningless twaddle. You are like all the
others who pit themselves against the silent body of men and women who
are engaged in seeking the freedom of their country. If you knew
anything of the horrors of Siberia, to which you so glibly refer, you
would shudder when you mention them, and you would fly with horror from
any act of your own that might commit a person to Siberia, and exile."
She came half-way around the table, and stood facing me, somewhat
nearer. "If you had taken a journey through Siberia before you offered
your services to the czar, you would have strangled yourself, or have
cut out your tongue, rather than have gone to him with any such
dastardly proposition as you confess yourself to have fathered. _You_
prate of stultifying yourself by taking the oath of nihilism, and
repudiating your word to Alexander. YOU! YOU! A PROFESSIONAL SPY!" She
threw back her head and laughed aloud, not with glee, but with utter
derision of spirit, and I shrank from the sound of it as I might have
done from a blow in the face.
Again she was a creature of moods and impulses. Again the wild Tartar
blood, leaping in her veins, controlled her. With a sudden move she
came nearer to me, and bending forward, looked into my face intently,
as if searching for something which had hitherto escaped her notice.
"What are you doing, Zara?" I asked her; and she replied.
"I am searching for the man whom, but a moment ago, I thought I loved.
I am seeking to find what it could have been that I saw in your eyes,
or your face, or your manner, that has so '_stultified_' ME. It is an
apt word, Dubravnik."
"Seek further, and perhaps you will find."
"No," she said. "He is gone, if he ever was there;" and she shrank
slowly away from me, backward, across the room, until the table was
again between us, and she stood leaning upon it with both hands this
time, peering at me with widened eyes that might have belonged to a
child in the act of staring between the bars of a cage at some wild
beast confined within it.
It is impossible to describe her attitude and the expression of her
face, at that moment. Horror, repulsion, contempt, loathing, even
hatred, were depicted there. I recognized the fact with shuddering
despair. I was that one thing which she most despised.
It is strange how the light of the world went out, for me. In realizing
the great calamity that had fallen upon me, I forgot all else; but
strangely enough I did not once think of appealing to her. Slowly I
turned away, and with slow strides approached the door which would
admit me to the corridor, and so permit me to pass from the house to
the street.
I reached it; I drew it open. I did not turn my head to look at her
again, lest I should become unmanned, and degrade myself by pleading
with her for the impossible. I passed into the hallway and pulled the
door shut behind me, and then, somehow, I got as far as the balustrade,
which, by following it, would lead me to the bottom of the stairs at
the house entrance.
My foot was upon the first step of the stairs when I heard rushing
footsteps behind me, and instantly was caught by clinging arms around
my neck, and I felt her hot and quick breath upon my cheek.
She did not speak; she only clung to me. I did not speak; but I turned
about with restored strength, and with my spirit renewed. I seized her
in my arms. I crushed her against me, violently. I raised her from her
feet, holding her as if she had been a child, and then, bearing her
with me, I strode backward through the doorway, and into the room I had
just left. I carried her to the divan, and I seated her upon the edge
of it, still retaining my grasp upon her; and I said:
"Zara, you are mine. Nothing short of death shall take you from me. In
the last few moments I have experienced all the horrors of a separation
from you. A little while ago you loved me. Only a few moments ago, we
were all there was in creation. For a moment which has seemed an
eternity, I believed that I had lost you, but when you followed me to
the landing of the stairway, I knew that I had not lost you, even for
that instant. You love me, Zara, and you shall be mine. Before God, you
shall be!"
For a moment I thought she intended to struggle again, to escape me.
Indeed, I was certain that she was on the point of doing so, and I
tightened my grasp upon her while I dropped upon one knee, and added:
"Zara, let me hear you say once again that you love me."
Her answer was a burst of tears, and for a time she could find no other
expression for her emotions; and while these lasted, she clung to me
the more tightly, so that when, at last, the storm did come to an end,
her lips were closely against my ear, and I heard the whispered words:
"I do love you."
But instantly she started away from me, and she cried out.
"Wait! wait, Dubravnik! I remember, now, that I had begun to tell you a
story. I was telling you what made me a nihilist."
"Yes."
"I will finish the story, if you will let me."
"Finish it," I said; "but do so while my arm is around you, and with
your head resting against my shoulder. Let me hold you here, where you
are, so that I may know I will not lose you again. You are a creature
of such changing impulses. That half-wild nature of yours is sometimes
so violent in its conclusions. Tell me the story, Zara. I will listen
to it."