e belonged, he said, to a great family in Russia. She had
left her home "for reasons which the _Journal_ was not at liberty to
reveal."

For a fortnight, managers and directors were on the _qui vive_, but as a
poetical personage of importance took this time to commit suicide, the
name of Jane Zeld was gradually forgotten.

When two days before his fete, Goutran received a perfumed note in which
Jane offered to sing for him, he was charmed.

The lady entered the room, followed at some little distance by
Esperance, who had conquered his timidity and come. His father had
bidden him "live," and the young man felt that he was in a measure
obeying his order when he drove to Goutran's studio, where he arrived
just in time to assist the fair stranger from her carriage.

The horizon of Paris is so vast that there is always room for a new
star. And Jane Zeld, even if she had not shrouded herself in so much
mystery, and without a voice, would have been conspicuous for her
beauty, which was of aristocratic delicacy. Her lips were like
pomegranate flowers in their rich red. Her bust was discreetly vailed,
her arms were beautifully rounded, firm and white, and terminated in
exquisite hands.

Goutran had begged Esperance to come to his fete. The Vicomte did so,
and Goutran seemed to forget his presence. Only a few curious glances
were turned upon him. All eyes were watching Jane who, too, seemed to
forget the person who had so gallantly assisted her from her carriage.
Every one was eager for an introduction to this queen of the evening,
and when she went to the piano a great hush fell upon the room. She sang
melodies, Slavonic airs, that had never before been heard in Paris, and
then an aria of a great composer, and when she concluded there was
immense applause.

"Do you know," said a voice, in the ear of the host, "that you are a
most eccentric person!"

The painter colored deeply, for it was Carmen who spoke. Goutran had
indeed behaved very strangely to her. He apologized in some confusion,
his duties as host, his many interruptions, etc.

"I forgive you," answered Carmen, "on one condition."

"Any thing!"

"Oh! I shall only ask a trifle. Can you spare me a few moments?"

"Certainly."

"Then give me your arm, and take me out on the terrace."

"The terrace! How did you know that I had a terrace?" asked Goutran,
astonished.

"Pray do not be uneasy. I never visited your studio in your absence. I
heard Monsieur Laisan