When I saw your eyes I knew
that the President had said I must die. I am glad that I was told this
by you, the only one amongst all these men who loved me. I suppose the
President spoke; I never heard him, but I saw your eyes and I knew.
My darling, it was cruel of you to come, cruel to me and cruel to
yourself, but I loved you for being there; it showed me that up till
the last you would stand by me, and until you read this you cannot know
all the facts. That to you, as to the others, I must have seemed a
woman spy and that nevertheless you stood by me, is to me a
recollection of unsurpassable sweetness, compared with which all other
thoughts of you fade into insignificance.
Know now, oh, well beloved, that I was not unworthy of your love.
I have a story to tell you, and I have such a little time left that I
must write quickly. The priest who has been with me comes again an hour
before the dawn, and he has promised to deliver these my last words of
love into your hands.
My real name is Zoe Xenia Olga Sbeiliez, and I was born twenty-nine
years ago at my father's country house at Inkovano, near Koniesfol. I
am Polish; at least, my father was, and my mother comes from the Don
country. There was a day when my father's ancestors were Princes in
Poland. Poor Poland was torn by the vultures of Europe, just as your
countrymen, my Karl, are tearing poor Belgium and France, and so my
family lost estates year by year, and my grandfather is buried
somewhere in the dreary steppes of Siberia because he dared to be a
Polish patriot.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157