which have indeed
been great--for only yesterday, though you were generous enough to
forget it, only yesterday you suffered cruelly--but you were not alone
in your sufferings. This proud young lady suffered also!"

"Do you think so?" said Djalma.

"Oh! it is quite sure, my lord. What must she not have felt, when she
saw you at the theatre with another woman!--If she loved you only a
little, she must have been deeply wounded in her self-esteem; if she
loved you with passion, she must have been struck to the heart. At
length, you see, wearied out with suffering, she has come to you."

"So that, any way, she must have suffered--and that does not move your
pity?" said Djalma, in a constrained, but still very mild voice.

"Before thinking of others, my lord, I think of your distresses; and
they touch me too nearly to leave me any pity for other woes," added
Faringhea hypocritically, so greatly had the influence of Rodin already
modified the character of the Phansegar.

"It is strange!" said Djalma, speaking to himself, as he viewed the half
caste with a glance still kind but piercing.

"What is strange, my lord?"

"Nothing. But tell me, since your advice has hitherto prospered so well,
what think you of the future?"

"Of the future, my lord?"

"Yes; in an hour I shall be with Mdlle. de Cardoville."

"That is a serious matter, my lord. The whole future will depend upon
this interview."

"That is what I was just thinking."

"Believe me, my lord, women never love any so well, as the bold man who
spares them the embarrassment of a refusal."

"Explain more fully."

"Well, my lord, they despise the timid and languishing lover, who asks
humbly for what he might take by force."

"But to-day I shall meet Mdlle. de Cardoville for the first time."

"You have met her a thousand times in your dreams, my lord; and depend
upon it, she has seen you also in 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