"Is it a fit, do you think?" I asked again, looking sorrowfully at the sad face of the unfortunate Ivan, which seemed to me to have already graven upon it the stern sweet smile of those who have passed all passion and pain forever. "Oh, Zara! do you believe he will recover?" And tears choked my voice—tears of compassion and regret.
Zara came and kissed me.
"Yes, he will recover—do not fret, little one. I have rung my private bell for Casimir; he will be here directly. The Prince has had a shock—not a fatal one, as you will see. You look doubtful—are you afraid of me, dear?"
I gazed at her earnestly. Those clear childlike eyes—that frank smile—that gentle and dignified mien—could they accompany evil thoughts? No! I was sure Zara was good as she was lovely.
"I am not afraid of you, Zara," I said gravely; "I love you too well for that. But I am sorry for the poor Prince; and I cannot understand—-"
"You cannot understand why those who trespass against fixed laws should suffer?" observed Zara calmly. "Well, you will understand some day. You will know that in one way or another it is the reason of all suffering, both physical and mental, in the world."
I said no more, but waited in silence till the sound of a firm approaching footstep announced Heliobas. He entered the room quickly—glanced at the motionless form of the Prince, then at me, and lastly at his sister.
"Has he been long thus?" he asked in a low tone.
"Not five minutes," replied Zara.
A pitying and affectionate gentleness of expression filled his keen eyes.