“My beautiful one!  Thou hast pardoned me?  Thou wilt love me still?  Thou art with me, Azul, my beloved?  I have not lost thee, oh my best and dearest!  Wilt thou lead me?  Whither?  Nay—­no matter whither—­I come!”

And as one walking in sleep, he went out of the room, and I heard his footsteps echoing in the distance on the way to the chapel.

Left alone with the Prince, I snatched a glass of cold water from the table, and sprinkled some of it on his forehead and hands.  This was quite sufficient to revive him; and he drew a long breath, opened his eyes, and stared wildly about him.  Seeing no one but me he grew bewildered, and asked: 

“What has happened?”

Then catching sight of the drawn swords lying still on the ground where they had been thrown, he sprang to his feet, and cried: 

“Where is the coward and murderer?”

I made him sit down and hear with patience what I had to say.  I reminded him that Zara’s health and happiness had always been perfect, and that her brother would rather have slain himself than her.  I told him plainly that Zara had expected her death, and had prepared for it—­had even bade me good-bye, although then I had not understood the meaning of her words.  I recalled to his mind the day when Zara had used her power to repulse him.

“Disbelieve as you will in electric spiritual force,” I said.  “Your message to her then through me was—­tell her I have seen her lover.”

At these words a sombre shadow flitted over the Prince’s face.

“I tell you,” he said slowly, “that I believe I was on that occasion the victim of an hallucination.  But I will explain to you what I saw.  A superb figure, like, and yet unlike, a man, but of a much larger and grander form, appeared to me, as I thought, and spoke.  ‘Zara is mine,’ it said—­’mine by choice; mine by freewill; mine till death; mine after death; mine through eternity.  With her thou hast naught in common; thy way lies elsewhere.  Follow the path allotted to thee, and presume no more upon an angel’s patience.’  Then this Strange majestic-looking creature, whose face, as I remember it, was extraordinarily beautiful, and whose eyes were like self-luminous stars, vanished.  But, after all, what of it?  The whole thing was a dream.”

“I am not so sure of that,” I said quietly, “But, Prince Ivan, now that you are calmer and more capable of resignation, will you tell me why you loved Zara?”

“Why!” he broke out impetuously.  “Why, because it was impossible to help loving her.”

“That is no answer,” I replied.  “Think!  You can reason well if you like—­I have heard you hold your own in an argument.  What made you love Zara?”

He looked at me in a sort of impatient surprise, but seeing I was very much in earnest, he pondered a minute or so before replying.

“She was the loveliest woman I have ever seen!” he said at last, and in his voice there was a sound of yearning and regret.