till
turned towards Djalma, arranged her hair with graceful art, took off the
network which formed her head-dress, placed it on the chimney-piece, and
began to unfasten her gown; then, withdrawing from the looking-glass,
she disappeared for an instant from Djalma's view.

"She is expecting Agricola Baudoin, her lover," said a voice, which
seemed to proceed from the wall of the dark room in which Djalma was.

Notwithstanding his bewilderment, these terrible words, "She is
expecting Agricola Baudoin, her lover," passed like a stream of fire
through the brain and heart of the prince. A cloud of blood came over
his eyes, he uttered a hollow moan, which the thickness of the glass
prevented from being heard in the next room, and broke his nails in
attempting to tear down the iron railing before the window.

Having reached this paroxysm of delirious rage, Djalma saw the uncertain
light grow still fainter, as if it had been discreetly obscured, and,
through the vapory shadow that hung before him, he perceived the young
lady returning, clad in a long white dressing-gown, and with her
golden curls floating over her naked arms and shoulders. She advanced
cautiously in the direction of a door which was hid from Djalma's view.
At this moment, one of the doors of the apartment in which the prince
was concealed was gently opened by an invisible hand. Djalma noticed it
by the click of the lock, and by the current of fresh air which streamed
upon his face, for he could see nothing. This door, left open for
Djalma, like that in the next room, to which the young lady had drawn
near, led to a sort of ante-chamber communicating with the stairs, which
some one now rapidly ascended, and, stopping short, knocked twice at the
outer door.

"Here comes Agricola Baudoin. Look and listen!" said the same voice that
the prince had already heard.

Mad, intoxicated, but with the fixed idea and reckless determination of
a madman or a drunkard, Djalma drew the dagger which Faringhea had left
in his possession, and stood in motionless expectation. Hardly were the
two knocks heard before the young lady quitted the apartment, from which
streamed a faint ray of light, ran to the door of the staircase, so that
some faint glimmer reached the place where Djalma stood watching, his
dagger in his hand. He saw the young lady pass across the ante-chamber,
and approach the door of the staircase, where she said in a whisper:
"Who is there?"

"It is I--Agricola