at Rose-Pompom through her glass; then she
resumed, in about a minute, addressing herself to Adrienne: "I am quite
certain of one thing. Notwithstanding her giddy airs, that girl is very
fond of her Indian. I just saw a look that expresses a great deal."

"Why so much penetration, my dear Julia?" said Adrienne, mildly; "what
interest have we to read the heart of that girl?"

"Why, if she loves her sultan, she is quite in the right," said the
marquis, looking through his opera-glass in turn; "for, in my whole
life, I never saw a more handsome fellow than that Indian. I can only
catch his side-face, but the profile is pure and fine as an antique
cameo. Do you not think so?" added the marquis, leaning towards
Adrienne. "Of course, it is only as a matter of art, that I permit
myself to ask you the question."

"As a work of art," answered Adrienne, "it is certainly very fine."

"But see!" said the marchioness; "how impertinent the little creature
is!--She is actually staring at us."

"Well!" said the marquis; "and she is actually laying her hand quite
unceremoniously on her sultan's shoulder, to make him share, no doubt,
in her admiration of you ladies."

In fact, Djalma, until now occupied with the contemplation of the
scene which reminded him of his country, had remained insensible to the
enticements of Rose-Pompon, and had not yet perceived Adrienne.

"Well, now!" said Rose-Pompon, bustling herself about in front of the
box, and continuing to stare at Mdlle. de Cardoville, for it was she,
and not the marchioness, who now drew her attention; "that is something
quite out of the common way--a pretty woman, with red hair; but such
sweet red, it must be owned. Look, Prince Charming!"

And so saying, she tapped Djalma lightly on 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