rity of the audience
paid no attention to it, reserving all their interest for the scene in
which the lion-tamer was to make his appearance.

This indifference of the public explains the curiosity excited in
the theatre by the arrival of Faringhea and Djalma--a curiosity which
expressed itself (as at this day, when uncommon foreigners appear in
public) by a slight murmur and general movement amongst the crowd. The
sprightly, pretty face of Rose-Pompon, always charming, in spite of her
singularly staring dress, in style so ridiculous for such a theatre,
and her light and familiar manner towards the handsome Indian who
accompanied her, increased and animated the general surprise; for, at
this moment, Rose-Pompon, yielding without reserve to a movement of
teasing coquetry, had held up, as we have already stated, her large
bunch of roses to Djalma. But the prince, at sight of the landscape
which reminded him of his country, instead of appearing sensible to this
pretty, provocation, remained for some minutes as in a dream, with his
eyes fixed upon the stage. Then Rose-Pompon began to beat time on the
front of the box with her bouquet, whilst the somewhat too visible
movement of her pretty shoulders showed that this devoted dancer was
thinking of fast-life dances, as the orchestra struck up a more lively
strain.

Placed directly opposite the box in which Faringhea, Djalma, and Rose
Pompon had just taken their seats, Lady Morinval soon perceived
the arrival of these two personages, and particularly the eccentric
coquetries of Rose-Pompon. Immediately, the young marchioness, leaning
over towards Mdlle. de Cardoville, who was still absorbed in memories
ineffable, said to her, laughing: "My dear, the most amusing part of the
performance is not upon the stage. Look just opposite."

"Just opposite?" repeated Adrienne, mechanically: and, turning towards
Lady Morinval with an air of surprise, she glanced in the direction
pointed out.

She looked--what did she see?--Djalma seated by the side of a young
woman, who was familiarly offering to his sense of smell the perfume
of her bouquet. Amazed, struck almost literally to the heart, as by an
electric shock, swift, sharp, and painful, Adrienne became deadly pale.
From instinct, she shut her eyes for a second, in order not to see--as
men try to ward off the dagger, which, having once dealt the blow,
threatens to strike again. Then suddenly, to this feeling of grief
succeeded a reflec