She turned to the window, but that was double, and tightly shut and
fastened up. There was no other exit, only this one door. Finding
escape hopeless, she sat down and waited the turn of events. Perhaps he
only meant to frighten her, perhaps there was some reason why the door
must be barred; perhaps there were bears in this terribly lonely place.
She sat there reasoning with herself and controlling her nerves for
moments which appeared like hours, and then she heard footsteps in the
passage, breaking the awful silence, and the door opened, and Gritzko
strode into the room.
He locked it after him, and pocketed the key; then he faced her. What
she saw in his passionate eyes turned her lips gray with fear.
And now everything of that subtle thing in womankind which resists
capture, came uppermost in Tamara's spirit. She loved him--but even so
she would not be taken.
She stood holding on to the rough oak table like a deer at bay, her
face deadly white, and her eyes wide and staring.
Then stealthily the Prince drew nearer, and with a spring seized her
and clasped her in his arms.
"Now, now, you shall belong to me," he cried. "You are mine at last,
and you shall pay for the hours of pain you have made me suffer!" and
he rained mad kisses on her trembling lips.
A ghastly terror shook Tamara. This man whom she loved, to whom in
happier circumstances she might have ceded all that he asked, now only
filled her with frantic fear.
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