“A woman wailing for her demon-lover.”

How that line haunted me!  And with, it there slowly grew up in my mind a black looming horror; an idea, vague and ghastly, that froze my blood and turned me faint and giddy.  Suppose, when I had consented to be experimented upon by Heliobas—­when my soul in the electric trance was lifted up to the unseen world—­suppose an evil force, terrible and all-compelling, were to dominate me and hold me forever and ever!  I gasped for breath!  Oh, so much the more need of prayer!

“Pray much and often, with as unselfish a heart as you can prepare.”

Thus Heliobas had said; and I thought to myself, if all those who were on the brink of great sin or crime could only be brought to feel beforehand what I felt when facing the spectral dread of unknown evil, then surely sins would be fewer and crimes never committed.  And I murmured softly, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

The mere utterance of these words seemed to calm and encourage me; and as I gazed up at the sky again, with its gathering clouds, one star, like a bright consoling eye, looked at me, glittering cheerfully amid the surrounding darkness.

More than ten minutes had elapsed since Prince Ivan had left the room, and there was no sound of returning footsteps.  And where was Zara?  I determined to seek her.  I was free to go anywhere in the house, only avoiding her studio during her hours of work; and she never worked at night.  I would go to her and confide all my strange thoughts and terrors to her friendly sympathy.  I hurried through the hall and up the staircase quickly, and should have gone straight into Zara’s boudoir had I not heard a sound of voices which caused me to stop precipitately outside the door.  Zara was speaking.  Her low, musical accents fell like a silver chime on the air.

“I have told you,” she said, “again and again that it is impossible.  You waste your life in the pursuit of a phantom; for a phantom I must be to you always—­a mere dream, not a woman such as your love would satisfy.  You are a strong man, in sound health and spirits; you care for the world and the things that are in it.  I do not.  You would make me happy, you say.  No doubt you would do your best—­your wealth and influence, your good looks, your hospitable and friendly nature would make most women happy.  But what should I care for your family diamonds? for your surroundings? for your ambitions?  The society of the world fills me with disgust and prejudice.  Marriage, as the world considers it, shocks and outrages my self-respect; the idea of a bodily union without that of souls is to me repulsive and loathsome.  Why, therefore, waste your time in seeking a love which does not exist, which never will exist for you?”

I heard the deep, passionate tones of Prince Ivan in answer: 

“One light kindles another, Zara!  The sunlight melts the snow!  I cannot believe but that a long and faithful love may—­nay, must—­ have its reward at last.  Even according to your brother’s theories, the emotion of love is capable of powerful attraction.  Cannot I hope that my passion—­so strong, so great, so true, Zara!—­will, with patience, draw you, star of my life, closer and closer, till I at last call you mine?”