He stretched out his arms to her, and his eyes were like sparks of light under his brows, gleaming. His hands trembled: "Look at me, Kaya, look at me. Why do you torment me?"
The girl thrust her hand slowly into the breast of her jacket and drew out a paper. "You lost it," she said, "in the prison. I found it on the floor. The--the certificate of our marriage. I swore that night--if we reached the frontier I would--Velasco, don't touch me!--I would destroy it!"
She held it away from him and her eyes gazed into his.
"You would never destroy it, Kaya!" He looked at her and then he gave a cry: "Stop--Kaya!"
She had torn the paper across into strips and was flinging the pieces from her; she was laughing. "You, my husband, Velasco? Are you mad? The daughter of General Mezkarpin marry a musician! Our family is one of the oldest in Russia and yours--!" She laughed again wildly, clasping her hands to her throat. "You are mad--Velasco!"
He looked at her steadily. "Tell me the truth," he said, "Do you love me, or do you not love me? Yes, or no."
"No, Velasco. You were kind to me--you saved my life; I am grateful. If it had not been for you--" Then she laughed again, staggering to her feet. "Love you? No--no! A thousand times--no!"
"That is a lie," said Velasco. "You are trembling all over like a leaf. Your cheeks are ashy. The tears are welling up in your eyes like a veil over the blue. You are breathless--you are sobbing."
He flung his arms around her and pressed her head to his breast, kissing the curls. "Lie still, Kaya, lie still in my arms! The gods only know why you said it, but it isn't the truth! You love me--say you love me! You said it in the sleigh when I was stunned, half conscious! Say it again--Kaya! The certificate is nothing. Does love need a certificate?" He laughed aloud. "Say it, Kaya--let me hear you, my beloved!"
She was silent, clinging to him; she had stopped struggling. Her eyes were closed and he kissed her fiercely on the lips again and again. Presently he was frightened, and a chill of terror and foreboding stole over him.
"Look at me, Kaya--open your eyes! Have I hurt you--was I too rough? Are you angry? I love you so! The whole world is nothing; art is nothing; fame is nothing. I would sell my Stradivarius for the touch of your fingers in mine, Kaya! I would give my soul for a look in your eyes! Ah, open them--dearest!"