It was only open
arrest, my darling, and on that last awful night I forced them to let
me see the Governor. I, Karl Von Schenk, knelt at his feet and begged
for your life. He simply said, "You are mad." I left the Palace under
close arrest.
Was ever woman's nobleness of character so exemplified as in your life?
Be comforted, Zoe, that in all my black sorrow I cling desperately to
my pride in your strength. I long to shout abroad what you did and why
you would never marry me, to tell all the gaping world that when you
died a martyr to duty was killed. I am so unworthy of what you did for
me, my darling, and it tortures me with mental rendings to think that
whilst I prided myself in my strength of mind, I was dragging you
through the fires of hell. When I think of those six weeks we had
together, my brain says, "And they might have been months had you not
spurned her in the forest."
Oh, Zoe! if the priests say truth and all things are now revealed to
you, forgive me for this act of mine. Come to me in spirit and give me
mental peace.
[Illustration: "...when there was a blinding flash and the air
seemed filled with moaning fragments."]
[Illustration: "When I put up my periscope at 9 a.m. the horizon seemed
to be ringed with patrols."]
As I write like this, as if it was a letter that you might read, I am
comforted a little; I rely utterly on the hope, which I struggle to
change into belief, that you can read this and know my thoughts.
For when I think that had things been otherwise you might have been
leaning over my chair at this moment, and running your cool fingers
through my stiff hair; when I think of this, my darling, the full
realization comes to me of the gulf which must divide us for some
uncertain period, and the lines of this page run mistily before my
eyes.
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