had good taste, but her friend looked no less haughty than herself. Dada
longed to make his acquaintance and find out whether he really had no
eyes for any one but Gorgo. To discover that it was not so, little as she
cared about him personally, would have given her infinite satisfaction,
and she decided that she must put him to the test. But there was no time
to lose, so, as it would hardly do to call after him, she obeyed a sudden
impulse, flung overboard the handsome fan which had been in her
possession but one day, and gave a little cry in which alarm and regret
were most skilfully and naturally expressed.

This had the wished-for effect. The officer turned round, his eyes met
hers, and Dada leaned far over the boat's side pointing to the water and
exclaiming:

"It is in the water--it has fallen into the lake!--my fan!"

The officer again bowed slightly; then he walked from the path down to
the water's edge, while Dada went on more quietly:

"There, close there! Oh, if only you would! . . .

"I am so fond of the fan, it is so pretty. Do you see, it is quite
obliging? it is floating towards you!" Constantine had soon secured the
fan, and shook it to dry it as he went across the plank to the vessel.
Dada joyfully received it, stroked the feathers smooth, and warmly
thanked its preserver, while he assured her that he only wished he could
have rendered her some greater service. He was then about to retire with
a bow no less distant than before, but he found himself unexpectedly
detained by the Egyptian slave who, placing herself in his way, kissed
the hem of his tunic and exclaimed:

"What joy for my lord your father and the lady your mother, and for poor
Sachepris! My lord Constantine at home again!"

"Yes, at home at last," said the soldier in a deep pleasant voice. "Your
old mistress is still hale and hearty? That is well. I am on my way to
the others."

"They know that you have come," replied the slave. "Glad, they are all
glad. They asked if my lord Constantine forgot old friends."

"Never, not one!"

"How long now since my lord Constantine went away--two, three years, and
just the same. Only a cut over the eyes--may the hand wither that gave
the blow!"

Dada had already observed a broad scar which marked the soldier's brow as
high up as she could see it for the helmet, and she broke in:

"How can you men like to slash and kill each other? Just think, if that
cut had been only a finger's breadth lower-