Tamara never stirred, and the strain of keeping the pistol to her head
made her wrist ache.
For a long time there was silence, and the great heat caused a mist to
swim before her eyes, and an overpowering drowsiness--Oh, heaven!--if
unconsciousness should come upon her!
Then the daylight faded quite, and the Prince got up and lit a small
oil lamp and set it on the shelf. He opened the stove and let the glow
from the door flood through the room.
Then he sat down again.
A benumbing agony crept over Tamara; her brain grew confused in the
hot, airless room. It seemed as if everything swam round her. All she
saw clearly were Gritzko's eyes.
There was a deathly silence, but for an occasional moan of the wind in
the pine trees. The drift of snow without showed white as it gradually
blocked the window.
Were they buried here--under the snow? Ah! she must fight against this
horrible lethargy.
It was a strange picture. The rough hut room with its skins and
antlers; the fair, civilized woman, delicate and dainty in her soft
silk blouse, sitting there with the grim Cossack pistol at her
head--and opposite her, still as marble, the conquering savage man,
handsome and splendid in his picturesque uniform; and just the dull
glow of the stove and the one oil lamp, and outside the moaning wind
and the snow.
Presently Tamara's elbow slipped and the pistol jerked forward. In a
second the Prince had sprung into an alert position, but she
straightened herself, and put it back in its place, and he relaxed the
tension, and once more reclined on the couch.
And now there floated through Tamara's confused brain the thought that
perhaps it would be better to shoot in any case--shoot and have done
with it. But the instinct of her youth stopped her--suicide was a sin,
and while she did not reason, the habit of this belief kept its hold
upon her.
So an hour passed in silence, then the agonizing certainty came upon
her that there must be an end. Her arm had grown numb.
Strange lights seemed to flash before her eyes--Yes,--surely--that was
Gritzko coming toward her--!
She gave a gasping cry and tried to pull the trigger, but it was
stiff, her fingers had gone to sleep and refused to obey her. The
pistol dropped from her nerveless grasp.
So this was the end! He would win.
She gave one moan--and fell forward unconscious upon the table.
With a bound Gritzko leaped up, and seizing her in his arms carried her
into the middle of the room. Then he paused a moment to exult in his
triumph.