“By heaven!  I will wait no longer.  I am a fool to hesitate.  I may wait a century before I draw out of Casimir the secret that would enable me to measure swords with my rival.  Listen!” and he grasped my shoulder roughly.  “Stay here, you!  If Casimir returns, tell him I have gone for a walk of half an hour.  Play to him—­keep him occupied—­be my friend in this one thing—­I trust you.  Let him not seek for Zara, or for me.  I shall not be long absent.”

“Stay!” I whispered hurriedly, “What are you going to do?  Surely you know the power of Heliobas.  He is supreme here.  He could find out anything he chose.  He could—–­”

Prince Ivan looked at me fixedly.

“Will you swear to me that you actually do not know?”

“Know what?” I asked, perplexed.

He laughed bitterly, sarcastically.

“Did you ever hear that line of poetry which speaks of ’A woman wailing for her demon-lover’?  That is what Zara does.  Of one thing I am certain—­she does not wail or wait long; he comes quickly.”

“What do you mean?” I exclaimed, utterly mystified.  “Who comes quickly?  I am sure you do not know what you are talking about.”

“I do know,” he replied firmly; “and I am going to prove my knowledge.  Remember what I have asked you.”  And without another word or look, he threw open the velvet curtains of the portiere, and disappeared behind them.

Left to myself, I felt very nervous and excited.  All sorts of odd fancies came into my head, and would not go away, but danced about like Will-o’-the-wisps on a morass.  What did Prince Ivan mean?  Was he mad? or had he drunk too much wine?  What strange illusion had he in his mind about Zara and a demon?  Suddenly a thought flashed upon me that made me tremble from head to foot.  I remembered what Heliobas had said about twin flames and dual affinities; and I also reflected that he had declared Zara to be dominated by a more powerful force than his own.  But then, I had accepted it as a matter of course that, whatever the force was, it must be for good, not evil, over a being so pure, so lovely and so intelligent as Zara.

I knew and felt that there were good and evil forces.  Now, suppose Zara were commanded by some strange evil thing, unguessed at, undreamt of in the wildest night-mare?  I shuddered as with icy cold.  It could not be.  I resolutely refused to admit such a fearful conjecture.  Why, I thought to myself, with a faint smile, I was no better in my imaginings than the so virtuous and ever-respectable Suzanne Michot of whom Madame Denise had spoken.  Still the hateful thought came back again and again, and refused to go away.

I went to my old place at the window and looked out.  The moonlight fell in cold slanting rays; but an army of dark clouds were hurrying up from the horizon, looking in their weird shapes like the mounted Walkyres in Wagner’s “Niebelungen Ring,” galloping to Walhalla with the bodies of dead warriors slung before them.  A low moaning wind had arisen, and was beginning to sob round the house like the Banshee.  Hark! what was that?  I started violently.  Surely that was a faint shriek?  I listened intently.  Nothing but the wind rustling among some creaking branches.