“Who is it that has dared, that has taken on himself the right to destroy that most splendid work of nature—man? You tried to console me with the assurance that your soul would live for ever; but of what use is your soul to me? I love your body, your eyes, your features. When I meet, in the street, someone who but slightly resembles you, I blush, and the blood rushes to my heart. Your irresistible smile, your charming laugh, maddened me with happiness! And now—all is over. You will never smile again, you will never look at me with your beloved blue eyes. To-morrow worms will begin to eat this flesh that is dearer to me than all else on earth, and I am powerless to prevent this outrage. Oh, ye gods! How have I sinned, that I should have deserved to suffer so madly? “Rather than this, why were you not untrue to me—why did you not go away, and love another? Terrible as this would have been, I should at least have known that you lived, that my eyes could look upon you. Secretly, in the darkness of the night, I could have come to gaze upon you, and this would have given me life. “Oh! Why do we not know the future? Why does fate give us no warning? How much time I lost in idle gossiping with girl friends, in needless outings and amusements, while I might have spent this time in talking with you, in gazing at you, in enjoying your caresses! “The moon will appear in the sky, the nightingales will sing, but you will not hear them. The sun will rise, but its rays will not penetrate into your cold tomb. Life at best is but short, and now you yourself, of your own free will, have deprived yourself prematurely of its joys. “Oh! This terrible, meaningless life! I am cold, I shiver, I cannot live in the world without you! All is pale, all is dark and tarnished around me. Nothing interests me, nothing pleases me. Alone! Alone! From now onwards, alone on this accursed earth.” And the unhappy one repeatedly kissed the dead body, passionately embraced it, beating her head upon the sand. * * * * * Irene clearly heard the groans, curses, and cries that re-echoed in the ancient circus. Tears fell from her eyes. She forgot where she was, and started when Gzhatski, having also for some time kept his eyes fixed on the arena, broke the silence by a sudden remark. “May I ask you an indiscreet question?” he asked, turning sharply round, and facing his companion. “Is it really true that you have decided to be a traitor to your faith, and become a Roman Catholic?”