onately through mine, she drew me from the
studio into the passage, and together we went down the staircase into a
large dining-room, rich with oil-paintings and carved oak, where
Heliobas awaited us. Close by him stood another gentleman, who was
introduced to me as Prince Ivan Petroffsky. He was a fine-looking,
handsome-featured young man, of about thirty, tall and
broad-shouldered, though beside the commanding stature of Heliobas, his
figure did not show to so much advantage as it might have done beside a
less imposing contrast. He bowed to me with easy and courteous grace;
but his deeply reverential salute to Zara had something in it of that
humility which a slave might render to a queen. She bent her head
slightly in answer, and still holding me by the hand, moved to her seat
at the bottom of the table, while her brother took the head. My seat
was at the right hand of Heliobas, Prince Ivan's at the left, so that
we directly faced each other.

There were two men-servants in attendance, dressed in dark livery, who
waited upon us with noiseless alacrity. The dinner was exceedingly
choice; there was nothing coarse or vulgar in the dishes--no great
heavy joints swimming in thin gravy a la Anglaise; no tureens of
unpalatable sauce; no clumsy decanters filled with burning sherry or
drowsy port. The table itself was laid out in the most perfect taste,
with the finest Venetian glass and old Dresden ware, in which tempting
fruits gleamed amid clusters of glossy dark leaves. Flowers in tall
vases bloomed wherever they could be placed effectively; and in the
centre of the board a small fountain played, tinkling as it rose and
fell like a very faintly echoing fairy chime. The wines that were
served to us were most delicious, though their flavour was quite
unknown to me--one in especial, of a pale pink colour, that sparkled
slightly as it was poured into my glass, seemed to me a kind of nectar
of the gods, so soft it was to the palate. The conversation, at first
somewhat desultory, grew more concentrated as the time went on, though
Zara spoke little and seemed absorbed in her own thoughts more than
once. The Prince, warmed with the wine and the general good cheer,
became witty and amusing in his conversation; he was a man who had
evidently seen a good deal of the world, and who was accustomed to take
everything in life a la bagatelle. He told us gay stories of his life
in St. Petersburg; of the pranks he had played in the Florent