do me a real service by
staying to-night. Come, I did not hesitate a moment ago, you know."

She had taken his hand; really there seemed to be a strange
disproportion between her request and the anxious, imploring tone in
which it was made. Paul still held back. He was not properly dressed.
How could she expect him to stay? A dinner-party at which she was to
have other guests.

"My dinner-party? Why, I will countermand the orders for it. That is the
way I feel. We three will dine alone, you and I and Constance."

"But, Felicia, my child, you can't think of doing such a thing. Upon my
word! What about the--the other who will soon be here?"

"_Parbleu!_ I will write to him to stay at home."

"Wretched girl, it is too late."

"Not at all, It's just striking six. The dinner was to be at half-past
seven. You must send him this at once."

She wrote a note, in haste, on a corner of the table.

"_Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!_ what a strange girl!" murmured the dancer, lost
in bewilderment, while Felicia, enchanted, transfigured, joyously sealed
her letter.

"There, my excuses are all made. The sick-headache wasn't invented for
Kadour. Oh! how glad I am!" she added, when the letter had gone; "what a
delightful evening we will have! Kiss me, Constance. This won't prevent
our doing honor to your _kuchlen_, and we shall enjoy seeing you in a
pretty gown that makes you look younger than I."

Less than that would have induced the dancer to forgive this latest whim
of her dear demon and the crime of _lese-majeste_ in which she had made
her an accomplice. The idea of treating such a personage so cavalierly!
No one else in the world would have done it, no one but her. As for Paul
de Gery, he made no further attempt at resistance, being caught once
more in the network from which he believed that he had set himself free
by absence, but which, as soon as he crossed the threshold of the
studio, suppressed his will and delivered him over, fast bound and
conquered, to the sentiment that he was firmly resolved to combat.

* * * * *

It was evident that the dinner, a veritable gourmand's dinner,
superintended by the Austrian even in its least important details, had
been prepared for a guest of first-rate consequence. From the high
Berber chandeliers of carved wood, with seven branches, which shed a
flood of light upon the richly embroidered cloth, to the long-necked
wine-jugs of curious and exquisite shape, t