CHAPTER XVI.
A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY.
I rushed to the study-door, tore aside the velvet hangings, and faced Heliobas and Prince Ivan Petroffsky.

They held drawn weapons, which they lowered at my sudden entrance, and paused irresolutely.
"What are you doing ?" I cried, addressing myself to Heliobas.

"With the dead body of your sister in the house you can fight! You, too!" and I looked reproachfully at Prince Ivan; "you also can desecrate the sanctity of death, and yet--you LOVED her!" The Prince spoke not, but clenched his sword-hilt with a fiercer grasp, and glared wildly on his opponent.

His eyes had a look of madness in them--his dress was much disordered--his hair wet with drops of rain--his face ghastly white, and his whole demeanour was that of a man distraught with grief and passion.

But he uttered no word.