As Djalma still struggled to rise, the half-caste added to restrain him:  “Just now, she grew pale and red with jealousy.  No weakness, or all is lost!”

“So! there you are again, talking your dreadful gibberish,” said Rose Pompon, turning round towards Faringhea.  “First of all, it is not polite; and then the language is so odd, that one might suppose you were cracking nuts.”

“I spoke of you to my master,” said the half-caste; “he is preparing a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? oh! that is different.  Only make haste—­do you hear, Prince Charming!” added she, looking tenderly at Djalma.

“My heart is breaking,” said Djalma, in a hollow voice to Faringhea, still using the language of India.

“But to-morrow it will bound with joy and love,” answered the half-caste.  “It is only by disdain that you can conquer a proud woman.  To-morrow, I tell you, she will be trembling, confused, supplicating, at your feet!”

“To-morrow, she will hate me like death!” replied the prince, mournfully.

“Yes, were she now to see you weak and cowardly.  It is now too late to draw back; look full at her, take the nosegay from this girl, and raise it to your lips.  Instantly, you will see yonder woman, proud as she is, grow pale and red, as just now.  Then will you believe me?”

Reduced by despair to make almost any attempt, and fascinated, in spite of himself, by the diabolical hints of Faringhea, Djalma looked for a second full at Mdlle. de Cardoville; then, with a trembling hand he took the bouquet from Rose-Pompon, and, again looking at Adrienne, pressed it to his lips.

Upon this insolent bravado, Mdlle. de Cardoville could not restrain so sudden and visible a pang, that the prince was struck by it.

“She is yours,” said the half-caste, to him.  “Did you see, my lord, how she trembled with jealousy?—­Only have courage! and she is yours.  She will soon prefer you to that handsome young man behind her—­for it is he whom she has hitherto fancied herself in love with.”

As if the half-caste had guessed the movement of rage and hatred, which this revelation would excite in the heart of the prince, he hastily added:  “Calmness and disdain!  Is it not his turn now to hate you?”

The prince restrained himself, and drew his hand across his forehead which glowed with anger.

“There now! what are you telling him, that vexes him so?” said Rose Pompon to Faringhea, with pouting lip.  Then, addressing Djalma, she continued:  “Come, Prince Charming, as they say in the fairy-tale, give me back my flowers.”

As she took it again, she added:  “You have kissed it, and I could almost eat it.”  Then, with a sigh, and a passionate glance at Djalma, she said softly to herself:  “That monster Ninny Moulin did not deceive me.  All this is quite proper; I have not even that to reproach myself with.”  And with her little white teeth, she bit at a rosy nail of her right hand, from which she had just drawn the glove.