I rushed to the study-door, tore aside the velvet hangings, and faced Heliobas and Prince Ivan Petroffsky. They held drawn weapons, which they lowered at my sudden entrance, and paused irresolutely.
"What are you doing?" I cried, addressing myself to Heliobas. "With the dead body of your sister in the house you can fight! You, too!" and I looked reproachfully at Prince Ivan; "you also can desecrate the sanctity of death, and yet--you LOVED her!"
The Prince spoke not, but clenched his sword-hilt with a fiercer grasp, and glared wildly on his opponent. His eyes had a look of madness in them--his dress was much disordered--his hair wet with drops of rain--his face ghastly white, and his whole demeanour was that of a man distraught with grief and passion. But he uttered no word. Heliobas spoke; he was coldly calm, and balanced his sword lightly on his open hand as if it were a toy.
"This GENTLEMAN," he said, with deliberate emphasis, "happened, on his way thither, to meet Dr. Morini, who informed him of the fatal catastrophe which has caused my sister's death. Instead of respecting the sacredness of my solitude under the circumstances, he thrust himself rudely into my presence, and, before I could address him, struck me violently in the face, and accused me of being my sister's murderer. Such conduct can only meet with one reply. I gave him his choice of weapons: he chose swords. Our combat has just begun--we are anxious to resume it; therefore if you, mademoiselle, will have the goodness to retire---"
I interrupted him.
"I shall certainly not retire," I said firmly. "This behaviour on both your parts is positive madness. Prince Ivan, please to listen to me. The circumstances of Zara's death were plainly witnessed by me and others--her brother is as innocent of having caused it as I am."
And I recounted to him quietly all that had happened during that fatal and eventful evening. He listened moodily, tracing out the pattern of the carpet with the point of his sword. When I had finished he looked up, and a bitter smile crossed his features.
"I wonder, mademoiselle," he said, "that your residence in this accursed house has not taught you better. I quite believe all you say, that Zara, unfortunate girl that she was, received her death by a lightning-flash. But answer me this: Who made her capable of attracting atmospheric electricity? Who charged her beautiful delicate body with a vile compound of electrical fluid, so that she was as a living magnet, bound to draw towards herself electricity in all its forms? Who tampered with her fine brain and made her imagine herself allied to a spirit of air? Who but HE--HE!--yonder unscrupulous wretch!--he who in pursuit of his miserable science, practised his most dangerous experiments on his sister, regardless of her health, her happiness, her life! I say he is her murderer-- her remorseless murderer, and a thrice-damned villain!"