“There she is!”

He pointed, through the branches of the lilac-bushes, to two women who were approaching with slow steps, one a light-haired woman in a nurse’s dress, and the other in black garments, as if in mourning for her own life, Marsa herself.

Marsa!  She was coming toward Zilah; in a moment, he would be able to touch her, if he wished, through the leaves!  Even Vogotzine held his breath.

Zilah eagerly questioned Marsa’s face, as if to read thereon a secret, to decipher a name—­Menko’s or his own.  Her exquisite, delicate features had the rigidity of marble; her dark eyes were staring straight ahead, like two spots of light, where nothing, nothing was reflected.  Zilah shuddered again; she alarmed him.

Alarm and pity!  He longed to thrust aside the bushes, and hasten with extended arms toward the pale vision before him.  It was as if the moving spectre of his love were passing by.  But, with a strong effort of will, he remained motionless where he was.

Old Vogotzine seemed very ill at ease.  Dr. Fargeas was very calm; and, after a questioning glance at his colleague, he said distinctly to the Prince: 

“Now you must show yourself!”

The physician’s order, far from displeasing Zilah, was like music in his ears.  He was beginning to doubt, if, after all, Fargeas intended to attempt the experiment.  He longed, with keen desire, to speak to Marsa; to know if his look, his breath, like a puff of wind over dying ashes, would not rekindle a spark of life in those dull, glassy eyes.

What was she thinking of, if she thought at all?  What memory vacillated to and fro in that vacant brain?  The memory of himself, or of—­the other?  He must know, he must know!

“This way,” said Dr. Sims.  “We will go to the end of the alley, and meet her face to face.”

“Courage!” whispered Fargeas.

Zilah followed; and, in a few steps, they reached the end of the alley, and stood beneath a clump of leafy trees.  The Prince saw, coming to him, with a slow but not heavy step, Marsa—­no, another Marsa, the spectre or statue of Marsa.

Fargeas made a sign to Vogotzine, and the Russian and the two doctors concealed themselves behind the trees.

Zilah, trembling with emotion, remained alone in the middle of the walk.

The nurse who attended Marsa, had doubtless received instructions from Dr. Sims; for, as she perceived the Prince, she fell back two or three paces, and allowed Marsa to go on alone.

Lost in her stupor, the Tzigana advanced, her dark hair ruffled by the wind; and, still beautiful although so thin, she moved on, without seeing anything, her lips closed as if sealed by death, until she was not three feet from Zilah.

He stood waiting, his blue eyes devouring her with a look, in which there were mingled love, pity, and anger.  When the Tzigana reached him, and nearly ran into him in her slow walk, she stopped suddenly, like an automaton.  The instinct of an obstacle before her arrested her, and she stood still, neither recoiling nor advancing.