d 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 same costume as at their interview in
the house in the Rue Blanche. For the site of this solemn meeting, so
important to her future happiness, Adrienne had chosen, with habitual
tact, the grand drawing-room of Cardoville House, in which hung many
family portraits. The most apparent were those of her father and mother.
The room was large and lofty, and furnished, like those which preceded
it, with all the imposing splendor of the age of Louis XIV. The ceiling,
painted by Lebrun, to represent the Triumph of Apollo, displayed his
bold designing and vigorous coloring, in the c