on to allow a girl to be closeted in
that way with a man.

He was astonished that so serious-minded, so devout a person as
Constance--What did it look like?

The old lady gazed at him in stupefaction. As if Felicia were like
other girls! And then, what danger could there be with the Nabob, such
a serious man and so ugly? Moreover, Jenkins ought to know well enough
that Felicia never consulted anybody, that she did only what she chose.

"No, no, it's impossible; I cannot allow this," exclaimed the Irishman.

And, paying no further heed to the dancer, who threw up her arms to
call heaven to witness what was taking place, he walked toward the
studio; but, instead of entering at once, he opened the door gently and
raised a corner of the hanging, so that a part of the room, just that
part where the Nabob was posing, was visible to him, although at a
considerable distance.

Jansoulet was seated, without a cravat, with his waistcoat thrown open,
talking excitedly, in an undertone. Felicia answered in laughing
whispers. The sitting was very animated. Then there was a pause, a
rustling of skirts, and the artist, going up to her model, turned his
linen collar back all the way around, with a familiar gesture, letting
her hand run lightly over the tanned skin.

That Ethiopian face, in which the muscles quivered with the
intoxication of supreme content, with its great eyelids lowered like
those of a sleeping beast being tickled with a straw, the bold outline
of the girl as she leaned over that outlandish face to verify its
proportions, and then a violent, irresistible gesture, seizing the
slender hand as it passed and pressing it to two thick, trembling
lips,--Jenkins saw all this in a red glare.

The noise that he made in entering caused the two to resume their
respective positions, and in the bright light which dazzled his prying,
catlike eyes, he saw the girl standing before him, indignant,
dumfounded: "What is this? Who has dared?" and the Nabob on his
platform, with his collar turned back, petrified, monumental.

Jenkins, somewhat abashed, dismayed by his own audacity, stammered some
words of apology. He had something very urgent to say to M. Jansoulet,
very important information which could not be delayed. He knew from a
reliable source that there would be a distribution of crosses on March
16th. The Nabob's face, momentarily contracted, at once relaxed.

"Ah! really?"

He abandoned his pose. The matter was well wo