the shoulder; he started at
these words, turned round, and for the first time perceived Mdlle. de
Cardoville.

Though he had been almost prepared for this meeting, the prince was so
violently affected by it, that he was about involuntarily to rise, in a
state of the utmost confusion; but he felt the iron hand of Faringhea
laid heavily on his shoulder, and heard him whisper in Hindostanee:
"Courage! and by to-morrow she will be at your feet."

As Djalma still struggled to rise, the half-caste added to restrain him:
"Just now, she grew pale and red with jealousy. No weakness, or all is
lost!"

"So! there you are again, talking your dreadful gibberish," said Rose
Pompon, turning round towards Faringhea. "First of all, it is not polite;
and then the language is so odd, that one might suppose you were cracking
nuts."

"I spoke of you to my master," said the half-caste; "he is preparing a
surprise for you."

"A surprise? oh! that is different. Only make haste--do you hear, Prince
Charming!" added she, looking tenderly at Djalma.

"My heart is breaking," said Djalma, in a hollow voice to Faringhea,
still using the language of India.

"But to-morrow it will bound with joy and love," answered the half-caste.
"It is only by disdain that you can conquer a proud woman. To-morrow, I
tell you, she will be trembling, confused, supplicating, at your feet!"

"To-morrow, she will hate me like death!" replied the prince, mournfully.

"Yes, were she now to see you weak and cowardly. It is now too late to
draw back; look full at her, take the nosegay from this girl, and raise
it to your lips. Instantly, you will see yonder woman, proud as she is,
grow pale and red, as just now. Then will you believe me?"

Reduced by despair to make almost any attempt, and fascinated, in spite
of himself, by the diabolical hints of Faringhea, Djalma looked for a
second full at Mdlle. de Cardoville; then, with a trembling hand he took
the bouquet from Rose-Pompon, and, again looking at Adrienne, pressed it
to his lips.

Upon this insolent bravado, Mdlle. de Cardoville could not restrain so
sudden and visible a pang, that the prince was struck by it.

"She is yours," said the half-caste, to him. "Did you see, my lord, how
she trembled with jealousy?--Only have courage! and she is yours. She
will soon prefer you to that handsome young man behind her--for it is he
whom she has hitherto fancied herself in love with."

As if the half-caste had gues