magnetized. "But I am not bound to keep the veil always up," and
as she spoke she loosened it and let it fall, showing an exquisite
face, fair as a lily, and of such perfect loveliness that the men
who were gathered round her seemed to lose breath and speech at
sight of it. "That pleases you better, Mr. Murray?"

Denzil grew very pale. Bending down he murmured something to her
in a low tone. She raised her lovely brows with a little touch of
surprise that was half disdain, and looked at him straightly.

"You say very pretty things; but they do not always please me,"
she observed. "However, that is my fault, no doubt."

And she began to move onwards, her Nubian page preceding her as
before. Gervase stood in her path and confronted her as she came.

"Introduce me," he said in a commanding tone to Denzil.

Denzil looked at him, somewhat startled by the suppressed passion
in his voice.

"Certainly. Princess, permit me!" She paused, a figure of silent
grace and attention. "Allow me to present to you my friend, Armand
Gervase, the most famous artist in France--Gervase, the Princess
Ziska."

She raised her deep, dark eyes and fixed them on his face, and as
he looked boldly at her in a kind of audacious admiration, he felt
again that strange dizzying shock which had before thrilled him
through and through. There was something strangely familiar about