he said nothing of what she would
give in case he succeeded.

"Oh, there are many ways; for instance, I might say to him that if he
played in your drawing-room it is very likely he may be engaged by the
empress, and that then his fortune was made--at least, for this
season. An artist would at once see what a chance this would be. Then
I would offer him money."

"I have done that already--five hundred francs."

"Well, although a young man may turn up his nose at five hundred
francs, an old woman will appreciate a hundred Napoleons at their true
value. Arpad must obey his mother's wishes, and what she promises for
him he must do. I know the circumstances."

"You are a very sensible man. I should have begun with the mother, but
it never occurred to me. Well, manage it all for me. If you only
accomplish it I shall do whatever you ask me."

She was in such good-humor that the abbe saw he could ask her
anything; still, it was with a slight hesitation that he said:

"I want you to give me an invitation for your charity concert for a
friend of mine."

"You shall have ten," cried Eveline, joyfully.

"I only require one, but this invitation must be written with your own
hand."

"Give me the name of your friend and I will write the card this
moment."

As she spoke she seated herself at her writing-table, took an
invitation-card from her drawer, and made all ready to begin.

"Now the name."

"Prince Waldemar Sondersheim."

When she heard the name Eveline threw down her pen and sprang hastily
to her feet.

"No," she said, decidedly, "never!"

The abbe burst into a shrill laugh. "Your excitement is very
becoming," he said. "You are a fine actress."

"I shall not invite Prince Sondersheim to my concert," returned
Eveline, seating herself on the sofa with a defiant air.

"Is the prince disagreeable to you?"

"I loathe him."

"Do you imagine that the world contains nothing but simpletons like
Arpad Belenyi?"

Eveline got up from the sofa, went to the writing-table, and tore the
programme she had been writing into a hundred pieces.

"Arpad may stay at home, tied to his mother's apron-strings. I don't
want him nor any one. I'll give up the concert;" and she threw the
torn fragments of her programme into the fireplace.

The abbe rose from his seat and took the excited girl by the hand.

"Compose yourself, my dear young lady," he said. "I have come to you
on a most urgent matter--a matter which is of serious