erefore, should she seek to defy him for a mere foolish whim?
Prince Theobald went to Eveline's last rehearsal with his mind in a
tumult of annoyance and excitement; his blood circulated wildly. He
could send a strange answer to her farewell. Yes, and he would!

When he reached Eveline's house the servant admitted him as a favored
_habitue_, without a word, and left him in the drawing-room while he
went to announce him to his mistress. The prince looked round him; it
was the room where Eveline usually gave her representations. The
rose-colored curtains were drawn, one corner was filled with
greenhouse exotics, the air was perfumed with the scent of the
flowers. In another corner two turtle-doves cooed melodiously, while
from behind a little _bosquet_ a nightingale sang its soft stave of
love, sorrow, and triumph. One could hardly imagine one's self in an
ordinary drawing-room; it was more like the throne of a nymph, or
fairy, in the depth of a wood.

The prince seated himself upon a sofa, and, taking up an album which
lay upon the table, he turned over the leaves. It was a collection of
photographs of Eveline in her different parts. He went through it from
cover to cover, examining each tempting and seductive portrait
carefully, and as he did so there rose before his memory the casket in
which Angela's letters and embroidery were preserved. His thoughts
were so absorbed in these recollections that, with a start, he found
himself at the last page in the book before him. He roused himself to
look at the beautiful figure in a common stuff frock. How captivating,
how simple, how lovely!

The nightingale sang, the doves cooed, the air grew heavy with the
scent of the pomegranates. The prince wondered in what form of
enchantment would his hostess appear. And now there fell on his ear,
coming from a distance, a forgotten tune. Once he had heard it, long
ago; but the air he remembered. It moved him strangely. It was a
simple volkslied, the same with which the nurse was wont to rock the
cradle of Angela when she was a baby--a Slav tune. The text was
unknown to him.

After a few minutes the song ceased, the door of Eveline's
dressing-room opened, and she came in--and how? In what new and
captivating costume did she appear?

She wore a simple white-and-black dress of crape cloth; her hair was
smoothly combed back from her young face, and hung down in a long
plait; a white lace collar was round her throat.

Softly, modestly