dance."

"Leave me—leave me."

He came nearer: "Are you still faint? Will you rest and let me come back? When? How soon?"

"Leave me."

He took out his watch: "Nearly midnight," he cried, "then the Duke will return. When the clock strikes, Kaya, it will be our dance. You will waltz with me then—once more? As soon as the clock strikes?"

"Leave me."

"A quarter of an hour, Kaya, no more? I will send word to Boris. He will guard the curtain so no one will enter, unless it is the Duke himself. As soon as the clock strikes, you promise, we will waltz together?"

"Go, Michel, go—I promise."

The Prince made a step forward as though to gather the shrinking figure in his arms. He hesitated; then he moved towards the curtain; hesitated again and looked behind him. Then the heavy folds fell and the girl was alone.

She stood for a moment, watching the folds, then she put her hands to her eyes and swayed as though she were falling.

"God!" she cried, "Must I do it? Is there no other—no other instrument?" She sobbed to herself in little broken words, catching her breath: "I vow—I vow—without weakness, or hesitation, or mercy—with mine own hands if—needs be."

She staggered forward, still sobbing, and bent over the desk. Something white fluttered and fell from her lace; she smoothed it with her fingers; gazed at it.

"God!" she cried, "Oh, God!"

Then she clasped her breast again and drew something out, something dark and hard. She gave a startled glance about the room, covering it with her arms; her form shivering as though in a chill.

"In the name of the Black Cross I swear—I swear—"

Then she crept back to the couch and sank on the floor behind it, covering her face with her hands. As she did so, the door on the corridor opened a crack, then wider, slowly wider, and some one came in. The form was that of a man. He looked about him. The room was still, deserted, and he gave a sigh of relief, hurrying over to the desk. When he turned up the lamp, the light revealed a bundle of papers which he laid on the desk, examining them one after the other, putting his face close to the lamp, studying, absorbed.

The face was that of the Grand-Duke Stepan; his beaked nose, his grey, upturned mustache, his eyes small and crossed. They were fixed on the sheets. All of a sudden he started violently.