"No, not all, yet," I said. "What became of the officer who made all
the trouble?"
"He returned," she replied, without again raising her eyes.
"Where is he now?"
"He is here."
"Here? In St. Petersburg?"
"Yes."
"Do you know him? Do you see him?"
"Yes, frequently. He was here last night."
"Will you tell me his name?"
"No."
"Shall I tell it to you?"
"Shall you tell it to me! Do you mean to say that you know it?"
"I can guess it."
"Well?"
"He is a nihilist. He has just returned to the city. All these years he
has been absent, and had Stanislaus waited for his coming your story,
and mine also, would have had a different ending. But Stanislaus did
not wait. The man you mean is Captain Alexis Durnief."
She started bolt upright.
"You knew it? You knew it?" she cried. "Tell me how you knew it?"
"I guessed it only just now. I guessed it from the expression of your
eyes when you greeted him last night, that is, coupling that expression
with the recital of to-day, and with one or two hints of his character
that I gleaned from him. He is the man?"
"Yes. He--is--the--man!!!"
"And you receive him here?"
"I cannot help it. My hands are tied."
"How are they tied?"
"You have already said."
"Yes? How?"
"He is a nihilist. He does not know that I am aware of all his foulness
and villainy. He has been assured that I do not know it! And"--here she
leaped to her feet and confronted me like an enraged tigress--"he has
the effrontery to pretend that he is in love with me, and to believe
that I can love him. Pah!"
"And you?" I asked.
"I?"
She crossed the room, but turned and retraced her steps, reseating
herself upon the couch. She was smiling now. Her composure had returned
though she was still pale, and there were deep rings under her eyes
which told of the suffering she had undergone.
"Until you came I had thought that I would marry him," said she,
calmly. I was more utterly amazed than I could have supposed possible.
"Indeed?" I remarked, raising my brows, but otherwise not showing the
surprise I felt. Here was still another phase of the character of the
woman I loved so madly. But I could see that she spoke in the past
tense; of something no longer considered.
"Yes; I thought that. Why not? It seemed the only way by which I could
secure the revenge I believed I must have. I could have obtained it in
that way. Long ago he sheltered himself from anything that I could do,
under the cloak of our order. I could have married him, and in six
months have tortured him into the grave; or, if that had failed, I
could have poisoned him. Ah! did you ever hate--truly hate--anybody? If
you never did, you cannot imagine the rage that has been in my heart
against those two men. No, they are not men; they are beasts,
reptiles." So she spoke of Alexis Durnief and Alexander, the czar. I
could scarcely recognize this woman who could hate others with such
intensity.