What made you love Zara ?" He looked at me in a sort of impatient surprise, but seeing I was very much in earnest, he pondered a minute or so before replying.
"She was the loveliest woman I have ever seen!" he said at last, and in his voice there was a sound of yearning and regret.
"Is THAT all ?" I queried, with a gesture of contempt.

"Because her body was beautiful--because she had sweet kissing lips and a soft skin; because her hand was like a white flower, and her dark hair clustering over her brow reminded one of a misty evening cloud hiding moonlight; because the glance of her glorious eyes made the blood leap through your veins and sting you with passionate desire--are these the reasons of your so-called love?
Oh, give it some other and lower name! For the worms shall feed on the fair flesh that won your admiration--their wet and slimy bodies shall trail across the round white arms and tender bosom--unsightly things shall crawl among the tresses of the glossy hair; and nothing, nothing shall remain of what you loved, but dust.
Prince Ivan, you shudder; but I too loved Zara--I loved HER, not the perishable casket in which, like a jewel, she was for a time enshrined.
I love her still--and for the being I love there is no such thing as death." The Prince was silent, and seemed touched.

I had spoken with real feeling, and tears of emotion stood in my eyes.
"I loved her as a man generally loves," he said, after a little pause.
"Nay--more than most men love most women!" "Most men are too often selfish in both their loves and hatreds," I returned.

"Tell me if there was anything in Zara's mind and intelligence to attract you?
Did you sympathize in her pursuits; did you admire her tastes; had you any ideas in common with her ?" "No, I confess I had not," he answered readily.

"I considered her to be entirely a victim to her brother's scientific experiments.