I can still see his fish-like face, hair brushed back with scrupulous
care, as without a shadow of emotion he looked up, puffed his pipe, and
said in matter-of-fact tones:
"You have a pretty face and an excellent figure. Need I say more?"
I could have struck him in the face. I was speechless, my mind a whirl
of conflicting emotions. I was roused by the level tones again.
"Is it too much--for Poland?"
Oh! the cunning of the man; he knew my weakness. Mechanically, I
agreed. Certain details were settled, and he pressed a bell. Within
five minutes I was walking back to my lodgings.
Thanks to a marvellous organization, which your police will never
discover, my Karl, within _three weeks_ I was singing on the Bruges
music-hall stage, and accepted without question as being what I was
not, a German artist from Dantzig. The men were soon round me, but I
had no use for youngsters with money. I wanted a man with information.
At last I found my man--the Colonel. He was on the Headquarters staff
of the XIth Army, the army of occupation in Belgium, when I first met
him. Subsequently he went back to regimental work; but by the time he
was killed (and to realize what a release that meant for me, you would
have had to have lived with him) I had established regular sources of
information concerning which I will say no more. Let your country's
agents find them if they can. This must I say for the Colonel: he was a
brute and a drunkard, but in his own gross way he loved me, and he
licked my boots at my desire, but I had to pay the price. You are a
man, and with all your loving sympathy you can but dimly realize what
this costs a woman. To me it was a dual sacrifice of honour and life,
but it was for Poland, and the memories of my parents and Alex steeled
me and strengthened my resolution, and so, and so, my Karl, I paid the
price.
My special work was on the military side, and consisted in making
quarterly reports on the general dispositions of large bodies of
troops, the massing of corps for spring offensives, and big pushes and
hammer blows.
Then you came into my life! When the Colonel used to go away it was my
habit to mix in the demi-mondaine society of Bruges, to try and live a
few hours in which I could forget--oh! don't think the worst! _That_
sort of thing had no attraction for me. I didn't seek oblivion in that
direction! I had never even kissed anyone in Bruges until I kissed you
that first night we met at dinner--I was attracted to you from the very
first; the Colonel was due back in a few days, and I suddenly felt mad,
and kissed you. I suppose you put me down as one of the usual kind, out
to sell myself at a price varying between a good dinner and the rent of
a flat! You will now know that I had already mortgaged my body to
Poland.
Then a few days later you will remember we went down for that wonderful
day in the forest, and for the first time, Karl, I began to see that I
was really caring for you, and a faint realization of the dangers and
impossibilities towards which we were drifting crossed my mind.
Do you remember how silent I was on the drive back? In a fashion, my
Karl, I could foresee dimly a little of what was going to happen. I had
a presentiment that the end would be disaster, but I thrust the idea
away from me. Then came the day, just before one of your trips--oh! the
agony, my darling, of those days, each an age in length, when you were
at sea--when you told me at the flat that you loved me.
How I longed to throw my arms round your neck and abandon myself to
your embraces, but I was still strong enough in those days to hold back
for both our sakes.
Each time we were together I loved you more and more, and each time
when you had gone I seemed to see with clearer vision the fatal and
inevitable ending.
But I refused to give up the first real happiness that had been mine in
my short and stormy life, and so I clung desperately to my idle dream.
I prayed, I prayed for hours, Karl, that the war might end, for I felt
that in this lay our only hope--but what are one woman's prayers, a
sinful woman's prayers, to the Creator of all things, and the war
ground on in its endless agony just as it does to-night--Karl! Karl!
will this torture ever end?
But I must hurry, there is still much to tell you, and Time goes on
relentlessly just like the war; it is only life that ends. Then came
the days I took you to the shooting-box for the first time, and that
night I broke down and, unashamed, offered you myself. Think not too
badly of your Zoe, my Karl; when a woman loves as I do, what is
convention? A nothing, a straw on the waters of life. I wanted you for
my own, passionately and desperately, for I feared that any moment the
end might come, and to die without having felt your arms around me
would have added a thousand tortures to death. Though I could have
welcomed death with joy when I saw the look of sorrowful contempt which
you cast upon me that night. Heavens above! but you were strong, my
Karl. I am not ugly, and yet you resisted, and I hated and loved you at
the same time--oh! I know that sounds impossible, but it isn't for a
woman. I slept little that night and, feeling that I could not look you
in the face in the morning, I left for Bruges before you got up.
I felt that I could trust you not to try and find out the secret of the
shooting-box.
What a relief it is to be able to tell you everything frankly, and how
I hated the perpetual game of deception which I had to play.
I used to rack my brains for answers to your perpetual question, "Why
won't you marry me?" It was a desperate risk taking you down to the
forest, but you loved me so much that you never questioned the reasons
I gave you for my secrecy. I can tell you now, Karl, that in the early
days when I used to disappear from Bruges, it was to the shooting-box
that I went.
But I will write more of that later.
Did you suffer the same agony as I did before you left for Kiel, and
your pride would not allow you to come to me? You understand now, my
darling, why I could never marry you, and when the Colonel was killed
it became harder than ever. Once during that terrible interview before
you went up the Russian coast, I nearly gave way and promised to marry
you. But how could I? I had sworn my vow, and even to-night, though I
stand in the shadow of death, I do not regret my vow.
It is inconceivable that I could have married you and carried on my
work--a spy on my husband's country--and if I ever thought of trying to
do this impossible thing, a vision which has partially come true always
restrained me.
I saw a submarine officer disgraced and perhaps sentenced to death,
because his wife had been convicted as a spy!
No! it was impossible.
But if I could not marry you, I still wanted your love.
Then you went up the Russian coast, and I heard of your return in a
submarine terribly wrecked. I guessed what you must have gone through,
and determined to see you, but when I entered your room and saw you
lying open-eyed on your bed, with no one but a clumsy soldier to nurse
you, I could have wept. You know the rest; you can perhaps hardly
remember how I led you to my car and took you down to the forest. Oh,
Karl, are you angry with me for what happened? Do you sometimes think
that I took an unfair advantage of your weakness? Please! Please
forgive me, you were so helpless, and I loved you so.
Then came those unforgettable weeks whilst your boat was being
repaired, weeks which opened to me the door of the paradise I was never
to enter. Oh! Karl, I pray that all those memories may remain sweet and
unclouded all your life. Think of those days when you think of your
Zoe. Alas! they came to an end too soon, and you left for the Atlantic.
When you came back all was over; I had been caught at last.
The evidence at the trial was clear enough. I have no complaints. I was
fairly caught. You remember the big open space in front of the
shooting-box? I do not mind saying now that five times have I been
taken up from there in an English aeroplane, and landed there again
after two days. Each time I took over a full report on military
affairs. Not a word of naval news, my Karl; you will remember I never
tried to find out U-boat information. I even warned you to be cautious.
Well, they caught me as I landed; the English boy who had flown me back
tried hard to save me, but it only cost him his own life.
My first thought was of you, and there is not a jot of evidence against
you, save only your friendship for me. Remember this fact, if they
persecute you. Admit nothing, believe nothing they tell you, deny
everything; they have no evidence; but they are certain to try and trap
you.
It was noble of you, Karl, to engage Monsieur Labordin in my defence,
but it was useless and may do you harm.
I also know of your efforts with the Governor. I hoped nothing from
him, but what you did has made me ready to die; I tremble lest you are
compromised.
If only I could feel absolutely certain that I have not dragged you
down in my ruin I should face the rifles with a smile.
For my sake be careful, Karl.
When it is all over, cause a few little flowers to cover my
resting-place, if this is permitted for a spy. Order them, do not place
them yourself; you _must not_ be compromised.
I have told my story, and the end is very near. What else is there to
say?
Mere words are empty husks when I try to express my thoughts of you.
Do not sorrow for your Zoe, to whom you have given such happiness.
I am not afraid to die and cross into the unknown, which, however
terrible it is, cannot be much worse than this awful war.
Karl! Karl! how I long to kiss you and feel your strong arms crushing
the breath from this body of mine which has caused so much sorrow.
Oh, Mother Mary, support me in this hour of trial.