He knelt for a second and whispered a prayer, then he rose,
and they looked into each other's eyes--and their souls met--and all
shadows rolled away.
"Tamara!" he said, and he held out his arms--and with a little
inarticulate cry almost of pain Tamara fell into them--and he folded
her to his heart--while he bent and kissed her hair.
Then he held her from him and looked deep into
her eyes.
"Sweetheart--am I forgiven?" he asked, and when she could speak she
answered:
"Yes--you are forgiven."
Then he questioned again.
"Tamara, do you love me?"
But he saw the answer in her sweet face, and did not wait for her to
speak, but kissed her mouth.
Then he lifted her in his arms like a baby and carried her back through
the ghostly rooms to his warm human sitting-room, and there he laid her
tenderly down upon the couch and knelt beside her.
"Oh, my heart," he said. "What this time has been--since you promised
to marry me!--but I would not change it--I wanted you to love me beyond
everything--beyond anger with me, beyond--fear--beyond your pride. Now
tell me you do. My sweet one. Moia Doushka. I must know. I _must_ know.
You mean my life--tell me?"
And passion overcame Tamara, and she answered
him in a low voice of vibrating emotion.
"Gritzko! do you think I care for what you have done or will do! You
know very well I have always loved you!" And she put up her mouth for
him to kiss her.
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