"Keep him cool, in short!" laughed Gervase.

"Exactly!" The little Doctor smiled shrewdly. "You look feverish,
Monsieur Gervase."

Gervase flushed red under his dark skin.

"I daresay I am feverish," he replied irritably,--"I find this
place hot as an oven. I think I should go away to-morrow if I had
not asked the Princess Ziska to sit to me."

"You are going to paint her picture?" exclaimed Courtney. "By
Jove! I congratulate you. It will be the masterpiece of the next
salon"

Gervase bowed.

"You flatter me! The Princess is undoubtedly an attractive
subject. But, as I said before, this place stifles me. I think the
hotel is too near the river,--there is an oozy smell from the Nile
that I hate, and the heat is perfectly sulphureous. Don't you find
it so, Doctor?"

"N-n-o! I cannot say that I do. Let me feel your pulse; I am not a
medical man--but I can easily recognize any premonitions of
illness."

Gervase held out his long, brown, well-shaped hand, and the
savant's small, cool fingers pressed lightly on his wrist.