"In all the wickedness and cruelty of mankind," I said, "it is almost a wonder that there is any spiritual existence left on earth at all. Why should God trouble Himself to care for such few souls as thoroughly believe in and love Him?—they can be but a mere handful."
"Such a mere handful are worth more than the world to him," said Zara gravely. "Oh, my dear, do not say such things as why should God trouble Himself? Why do you trouble yourself for the safety and happiness of anyone you love?"
Her eyes grew soft and tender, and the jewel she wore glimmered like moonlight on the sea. I felt a little abashed, and, to change the subject, I said:
"Tell me, Zara, what is that stone you always wear? Is it a talisman?"
"It belonged to a king," said Zara,—"at least, it was found in a king's coffin. It has been in our family for generations. Casimir says it is an electric stone—there are such still to be found in remote parts of the sea. Do you like it?"
"It is very brilliant and lovely," I said.
"When I die," went on Zara slowly, "I will leave it to you."
"I hope I shall have to wait a long time before I get it, then," I exclaimed, embracing her affectionately. "Indeed, I will pray never to receive it."
"You will pray wrongly," said Zara, smiling. "But tell me, do you quite understand from my explanation what Casimir will do to you?"
"I think I do."