“You may,” she replied, also disguising her voice, “if you will tell me who you are.”

“That I dare not,” was the guarded reply.  “My name is never mentioned in ears polite, you know.”

Undine smiled.

“Since you will not tell me your name, perhaps you can tell me mine without the asking.”

“I can, madam.  You are—­Lady Merivale, who is so fond of the river.”

Undine started, her face turning suddenly pale.

“I—­what do you mean?  Who are you?” she asked, as she peered at him with straining eyes, seeking to pierce the clever disguise.

“Mephistopheles!” was the calm retort.  Then, as if to turn the subject, he continued lightly:  “It is a fair scene, and a fabulous one.”

Undine began to have a slight suspicion as to whom her companion might be, and was far from comfortable in her mind.  The hit at the river might have been only a chance one; but this was doubtful, if Mephistopheles turned out to be either Mortimer Shelton or Jasper Vermont, as she half feared.

She strove to conceal her uneasiness.

“The best should be happy and satisfied to-night,” she said; “it is a great success.”

“Yes, happy!” agreed the demon, nodding his horned head, “but not satisfied.  That will never be till he sees the marriage of his beloved son——­” He stopped short.

“With Lady Constance Tremaine,” finished Lady Merivale, in a low voice, from which all attempt at disguise had gone.

Mephistopheles nodded again.

“You have guessed aright, my lady,” he said.  “See! there they are together.  A handsome pair; an admirable match.  Yet it is sad to think——­” He stopped again.

“What?” cried Lady Merivale, grasping his scarlet-clad arm in a fierce grip.

“It will never be!”

His companion trembled with suppressed eagerness.

“What do you meant?” she exclaimed.  “Can you prevent it?”

“I both can and will,” was the quiet answer.  “But, come, let us seek a more retired spot.”

He drew her almost forcibly out of the recess into the shadow of some palms, as Adrien Leroy, with a partner on his arm, approached the alcove.

“Oh!  Mr. Leroy,” said Lady Chetwold, as they passed, “can you tell me who this latest arrival is?”

“I have not seen her,” said Adrien rather wearily; his eyes were bent on Lady Constance, who had left him and was now dancing with Lord Standon.

“Oh, there she is!” exclaimed his voluble little companion.  “Such a magnificent Cleopatra, isn’t she?”

She drew his attention to a tall lady who was looking rather anxiously and constrainedly about her.  Her dress certainly deserved the name of magnificent.  It was made for the greater part of apricot-coloured satin, with gauze and tinselled chiffon fulled over it; from the shoulders was suspended a long train of imperial purple velvet, on which was embroidered in dull green, various Egyptian symbols.  Her jewels too, which were abundant, consisting chiefly of diamonds and large emeralds, made her a regal, though almost theatrical figure.  Yet, as her eyes met the steady regard of Adrien’s, she looked nervously round as if to make her escape.