"Boulogne fish-wife," and looking daggers after the hastily-
retreating figure of a "White Hussar,"--no other than Ross
Courtney.

"How extremely droll a 'Boulogne fish-wife' looks in Egypt,"
commented the Doctor to his inward self. "Remarkable! The
incongruity is peculiarly typical of the Chetwynd Lyles. The
costume of the young woman is like the knighthood of her father,--
droll, droll, very droll!" Aloud he said--"Why are you not
dancing, Miss Muriel?"

"Oh, I don't know--I'm tired," she said, petulantly. "Besides, all
the men are after that Ziska woman,--they seem to have lost their
heads about her!"

"Ah!" and Dr. Dean rubbed his hands. "Yes--possibly! Well, she is
certainly very beautiful."

"I cannot see it!" and Muriel Chetwynd Lyle flushed with the
inward rage which could not be spoken. "It's the way she dresses
more than her looks. Nobody knows who she is--but they do not seem
to care about that. They are all raving like lunatics over her,
and that man--that artist who arrived here to-day, Armand
Gervase,--seems the maddest of the lot. Haven't you noticed how
often he has danced with her?"

"I couldn't help noticing that," said the Doctor, emphatically,
"for I have never seen anything more exquisite than the way they
waltz together. Physically, they seem made for one another."