in her own house.

"But, indeed," she added, with a laugh which displayed two rows of
pearly teeth, "it is not for me to invite you. That is a terrible breach
of the proprieties. General!"

At her call, from a group near by, advanced old General Vogotzine, whom
Zilah had not noticed since the beginning of the evening. Marsa laid her
hand on his arm, and said, distinctly, Vogotzine being a little deaf:

"Prince Andras Zilah, uncle, will do us the honor of coming to see us at
Maisons-Lafitte."

"Ah! Ah! Very happy! Delighted! Very flattering of you, Prince,"
stammered the General, pulling his white moustache, and blinking his
little round eyes. "Andras Zilah! Ah! 1848! Hard days, those! All
over now, though! All over now! Ah! Ah! We no longer cut one another's
throats! No! No! No longer cut one another's throats!"

He held out to Andras his big, fat hand, and repeated, as he shook that
of the Prince:

"Delighted! Enchanted! Prince Zilah! Yes! Yes!"

In another moment they were gone, and the evening seemed to Andras like
a vision, a beautiful, feverish dream.

He sent away his coupe, and returned home on foot, feeling the need
of the night air; and, as he walked up the Champs-Elysees beneath the
starry sky, he was surprised to find a new, youthful feeling at his
heart, stirring his pulses like the first, soft touch of spring.

CHAPTER VIII. "HAVE I NO RIGHT TO BE HAPPY"

There was a certain womanly coquetry, mingled with a profound love of
the soil where her martyred mother reposed, in the desire which Marsa
Laszlo had to be called the Tzigana, instead of by her own name.
The Tzigana! This name, as clear cut, resonant and expressive as the
czimbaloms of the Hungarian musicians, lent her an additional, original
charm. She was always spoken of thus, when she was perceived riding her
pure-blooded black mare, or driving, attached to a victoria, a pair of
bay horses of the Kisber breed. Before the horses ran two superb Danish
hounds, of a lustrous dark gray, with white feet, eyes of a peculiar
blue, rimmed with yellow, and sensitive, pointed ears--Duna and Bundas,
the Hungarian names for the Danube and the Velu.

These hounds, and an enormous dog of the Himalayas, with a thick, yellow
coat and long, sharp teeth, a half-savage beast, bearing the name
of Ortog (Satan), were Marsa's companions in her walks; and their
submission to their young mistress, whom they could have knocked
down with one pat of their paw