Father Paul, too, had retired, and Heliobas alone knelt beside all that remained of Zara, his figure as motionless as though carved in bronze, his face hidden in his hands.

As we approached, he neither stirred nor looked up, therefore I softly led the Prince to the opposite side of the bier, that he might look quietly on the perished loveliness that lay there at rest for ever.

Ivan trembled, yet steadfastly gazed at the beautiful reposeful form, at the calm features on which the smile with which death had been received, still lingered--at the folded hands, the fading orange-blossoms--at the crucifix that lay on the cold breast like the final seal on the letter of life.

Impulsively he stooped forward, and with a tender awe pressed his lips on the pale forehead, but instantly started back with the smothered, exclamation: "O God! how cold!" At the sound of his voice Heliobas rose up erect, and the two men faced each other, Zara's dead body lying like a barrier betwixt them.
A pause followed--a pause in which I heard my own heart beating loudly, so great was my anxiety.

Heliobas suffered a few moments to elapse, then stretched his hand across his sister's bier.
"In HER name, let there be peace between us, Ivan," he said in accents that were both gentle and solemn.
The Prince, touched to the quick, responded to these kindly words with eager promptness, and they clasped hands over the quiet and lovely form that lay there--a silent, binding witness of their reconciliation.
"I have to ask your pardon, Casimir," then whispered Ivan.