He opened the door, not without a certain fear that she might have fulfilled her threat of suicide, but to his relief he saw her sitting pensively beside the barred casement. There was a pistol by her side, a weapon which the marshal intuitively felt was a loaded one. He had expected to be received with reproachful invective, instead of which she met him with a glad light in her eyes. She seemed totally transformed from the vengeful maiden whom he had left an hour previously. Zabern noted the change and wondered. "Your imprisonment is over, Katina," he said, gently. "Orloff has departed." "I know it," she replied, "for I have seen him." "You have seen him," muttered the marshal, glancing suspiciously at the pistol, and doubtful now as to whether it was loaded. "Yes. In departing Orloff and his suite took their way through the palace gardens and passed within view of this very window. I could have over-reached you, marshal," she continued with a smile, "for, as my pistol is with me," she added, tapping the weapon, "I could easily have brought him down." "But the thought of Czernova stayed your hand?" "No!" she answered, "no," murmuring the words faintly, as if speaking more to herself than to him, while at the same time the soft color mantled her cheek, "it was the thought rather of him whom I love that kept me from the deed." "Him whom you love?" repeated Zabern, with a touch of surprise in his voice. "Love? Humph! I am glad to hear that word from you, Katina." "Why so?" she asked, casting a glance at him, and averting her eyes again immediately, when she observed how steadfastly he was regarding her. "It shows that you are human if you can be touched by that sentiment," laughed Zabern. "I have been accustomed to think that you were even as myself." "In what way?" "Insensible to love. You know that my father led me in childhood to the sacramental altar, and there made me swear to do my best to destroy a great empire. Complete devotion to that patriotic vow--" "Has extinguished in you every other emotion," murmured Katina. "True. _Delenda est Muscovia_ is written on my heart in letters of fire. Patriotism is the only passion that has ever possessed me. But with youthful maiden it should be different. Because Poland is not free must you, too, steel your heart against natural affection? And so my pretty Katina has a sweetheart? And his name?" Why Katina should look frightened, and why her face should turn so white, completely mystified Zabern. As she remained silent he repeated his last question. "His name? No! I cannot tell it; at least--not--not to you; though others know it. Nay," she added, wildly, "even Russakoff, the spy, can taunt me with it in the public street." "Others know it, even Russakoff?" repeated Zabern. "And yet you would keep the name from me? Well, be it so," he added reproachfully. "I should have thought, Katina, that you would have let your old friend, the marshal, be the first to congratulate you."