this day. What can I
do for you? what would you have--gold? You shall have it. Do you desire
more than gold? Do you desire a friend, to console you for the sorrows
that made you wicked, and to teach you to be good? Though a king's son, I
will be that friend--in spite of the evil--ay, because of the evil you
have done me. Yes; I will be your sincere friend, and it shall be my
delight to say to myself: 'The day on which I learned that my angel loved
me, my happiness was great indeed--for, in the morning, I had an
implacable enemy, and, ere night, his hatred was changed to friendship.'
Believe me, Faringhea, misery makes crime, but happiness produces virtue.
Be happy!"

At this moment the clock struck two. The prince started. It was time to
go on his visit to Adrienne. The handsome countenance of Djalma, doubly
embellished by the mild, ineffable expression with which it had been
animated whilst he was talking to the half-caste, now seemed illumined
with almost divine radiance.

Approaching Faringhea, he extended his hand with the utmost, grace and
courtesy, saying to him, "Your hand!"

The half-caste, whose brow was bathed with a cold sweat, whose
countenance was pale and agitated, seemed to hesitate for an instant;
then, overawed, conquered, fascinated, he offered his trembling hand to
the prince, who pressed it, and said to him, in their country's fashion,
"You have laid your hand honestly in a friend's; this hand shall never be
closed against you. Faringhea, farewell! I now feel myself more worthy to
kneel before my angel."

And Djalma went out, on his way to the appointment with Adrienne. In
spite of his ferocity, in spite of the pitiless hate he bore to the whole
human race, the dark sectary of Bowanee was staggered by the noble and
clement words of Djalma, and said to himself, with terror, "I have taken
his hand. He is now sacred for me."

Then, after a moment's silence, a thought occurred to him, and he
exclaimed, "Yes--but he will not be sacred for him who, according to the
answer of last night, waits for him at the door of the house."

So saying, the half-caste hastened into the next room, which looked upon
the street, and, raising a corner of the curtain, muttered anxiously to
himself, "The carriage moves off--the man approaches. Perdition! it is
gone and I see no more."

CHAPTER XL.

ANXIETY.

By a singular coincidence of ideas, Adrienne, like Djalma, had wished to
be dressed exactly in the sa