A long sigh, a sigh of love and despair, escaped from her lips, and a blush rose to her face. She saw the dressing-gown of blue, trimmed with lace, that she had taken off on that terrible night, in which was but one moment of bliss, when, half naked, she had clung about the neck of the prince to defend him or to seek his protection as the door of her room was flung open. Could she ever forget that moment? Pierre had not understood how she adored him. Yet had not she betrayed it plainly, in her eyes, at the moment of that mad embrace?
"Oh, no," she sobbed, ready to fall to the ground, conquered by all these emotions, "no, he will never love me."
"Never more than at this moment, Vera," a voice said suddenly that made her tremble.
She sunk into the arms of Pierre Olsdorf who, without being heard by her, had entered the room and had been watching her for some moments.
"Is it you?" murmured Soublaieff's daughter, closing her eyes as if, fancying this was a new dream, she wished to lengthen it.
The prince carried rather than led her to a large sofa at one side of the room. He laid her down on it, and kneeling beside her, said:
"Why do you doubt me? Vera, I have the sincerest and tenderest affection for you. I will never forget what you have done for me nor the trouble I have brought into your life. I am responsible for your future, and I swear to you it shall be happy."
"You speak of happiness for me, Pierre Alexandrowich, and you are leaving me," sobbed the young girl, with a despairing look in her eyes brimming over with tears. "Why do you go? Why do you leave me alone?"
Never was woman more beautiful, more desirable, more intoxicating than Vera in her sorrow and her chaste abandon. The dusky flood of her hair sweeping about her, her scarlet lips parted as if they begged for a kiss, the subtle fragrance of youth and maidenhood that innocently offered itself—all this intoxicated Pierre Olsdorf. He had seized in his the cold hands of the young girl, and, his head swimming, he felt himself drawn irresistibly to her. But a last gleam of reason arrested him; and rising he exclaimed:
"Oh, no, no; it would be an act of cowardice unworthy of me."