The tone of the question was masterful, and unconsciously I resented it.
What right had any other man to address my princess in that manner? for already I found myself regarding her as my princess. I knew now that I had wandered into the garden solely for the purpose of being alone to think about her, and that in my short journeys up and down the paths, finally ending among the cushions of the Turkish bower, I had had her with me for a companion. You will discover by this statement that I was still mindful of her presence near me, even though I had left her in the drawing room while I went away alone; but it is always possible to conjure a personal presence if the mind is sufficiently intent upon it, and even though that presence be not physical, it is nevertheless real.
The tone of the man who was speaking with her in the adjoining bower was masterful, as I have said. More than that it was familiar. It was even intimate, I thought, and I was conscious of a silent rage when I heard it.
I sensed his words subconsciously, and yet I had thoroughly comprehended them. He had spoken of a meeting of their "very good friends" and I had no doubt to whom he referred; neither had I any doubt at the moment, that this man talking so confidentially with the princess, was one of the "marked" members of that rapidly widening group of persons whom my busily engaged employees were learning to know.
It was with a distinct shock, however, that I realized by virtue of the intimate manner of the man, that Zara de Echeveria must also be implicated with the nihilists, since he dared to speak to her so openly, so masterfully, and with such confident reliance upon the manner in which his communication would be received. Her reply convinced me sufficiently, had I required added conviction at that moment.
"I do not know," she said. "Say that I will send word to them in the usual way, and at the earliest opportunity. Say that I was entirely successful; that everything in Paris and Berlin is in the most excellent condition, and that nothing—absolutely nothing, you understand—must be done without my knowledge and permission."
"Our friends are becoming very impatient, Zara."
"Zara!" I unconsciously repeated the name after him, but it was under my breath, so that not a sound escaped me. Who could this man be who dared to address my princess by her given name, for in my secret soul she was my princess still, even though she had already said enough to convince me that she was an enemy to the czar whom I was serving.
"Let them. They must wait," she responded, with decision. "I will not be hurried. They are sworn to obey me. Tell them to await my pleasure. It is enough."
"There are some among them—you know who they are—who chafe under this restraint, Zara. I am afraid that they will get beyond your control unless something is done speedily."