her dreams, since she loves you. Every
one of your amorous thoughts has found an echo in her heart. All your
ardent adorations have been responded to by her. Love has not two
languages, and, without meeting, you have said all that you had to say to
each other. Now, it is for you to act as her master, and she will be
yours entirely."

"It is strange--very strange!" said Djalma, a second time, without
removing his eyes from Faringhea's face.

Mistaking the sense which the prince attached to these words, the half
caste resumed: "Believe me, my lord, however strange it may appear, this
is the wisest course. Remember the past. Was it by playing the part of a
timid lover that you have brought to your feet this proud young lady, my
lord? No, it was by pretending to despise her, in favor of another woman.
Therefore, let us have no weakness. The lion does not woo like the poor
turtle-dove. What cares the sultan of the desert for a few plaintive
howls from the lioness, who is more pleased than angry at his rude and
wild caresses? Soon submissive, fearful and happy, she follows in the
track of her master. Believe me, my lord--try everything--dare
everything--and to-day you will become the adored sultan of this young
lady, whose beauty all Paris admires."

After some minutes' silence, Djalma, shaking his head with an expression
of tender pity, said to the half-caste, in his mild, sonorous voice: "Why
betray me thus? Why advise me thus wickedly to use violence, terror, and
surprise, towards an angel of purity, whom I respect as my mother? Is it
not enough for you to have been so long devoted to my enemies, whose
hatred has followed me from Java?"

Had Djalma sprung upon the half-caste with bloodshot eye, menacing brow,
and lifted poniard, the latter would have been less surprised, and
perhaps less frightened, than when he heard the prince speak of his
treachery in this tone of mild reproach.

He drew back hastily, as if about to stand on his guard. But Djalma
resumed, with the same gentleness, "Fear nothing. Yesterday I should have
killed you! But to-day happy love renders me too just, too merciful for
that. I pity you, without any feeling of bitterness--for you must have
been very unhappy, or you could not have become so wicked."

"My lord!" said the half-caste, with growing amazement.

"Yes, you must have suffered much, and met with little mercy, poor
creature, to have become so merciless, in your hate, and proof against
t