“In the first place, since no one suspects what he is, he can work more craftily. In the second place—well, you can guess that a chief of spies is not exactly a popular idol. Von Plevhe spent a million rubles a year to protect his person, and even with that he died by a terrorist’s bomb. Instead of defending himself by the vain expenditure of a million on personal guards, Prince Berloff defends himself by keeping his hated office a secret.”
“I see. But why have you revolutionists not exposed him?”
“We have kept the matter a secret for much the same reason that he has kept it secret. So long as he believes himself unsuspected, we can work all the better against him.”
He stared at her. He remembered how calmly, how haughtily she had stood beside Prince Berloff, who had never a thought that the woman upon his arm was his bitter enemy, was fighting him with her very wit. And then, with a thrill of wonderment, he began to consider what a marvel it was that this young woman who had everything—great wealth, princely birth, such homage as was given to but few in a nation—everything that the world prized, should care so little for them all.
“I cannot understand, princess—” he began slowly.
“Do not call me princess!” she interrupted, her face beginning to glow. “I hate the word! Since you know me for what I am, call me what my comrades call me. Call me Sonya.”
“It is hard for me to understand then, how you are willing to risk position, rank, wealth—”
She rose and stood before him, her beauty heightened by the deepening glow of her face, by the flash of her eyes.
“My position!” cried she, opening wide her arms. “My position! What won me my position, my rank, my wealth? I will tell you. A thousand years ago, and more, one of my ancestors was a strong man. He made himself great by seizing the rights and property of others. The Government helped him hold on to what he had seized, and during all the thousand years since the Government has helped his descendents hold on to that power and property and keep the disinherited ones, the robbed ones, in subjection. And to-day it is helping me!
“People call me beautiful, cultured, noble. If this be true, why is it true? Because for a thousand years thousands of people have toiled, suffered, starved, been beaten down! I am the product of all that misery! Not for a day, not for an hour, would I keep my position were it not for one thing alone. I have a large income, all of which, except what I need to maintain appearances, is now turned over to the revolutionists; were I openly to join the revolutionists, that money, which we need so much, would be confiscated and lost to us. The need of this money forces me to hold my place; otherwise I would be openly in the fight to regain the people their lost rights, to gain them rights they have never had! To win their liberty, and all that liberty will mean! Ah, the people! Our poor maimed and mourning people!”