“I sincerely hope the world is not all before me,” she said; “I should be very sorry if I thought so.  To have the world all before you in the general acceptation of that term means to live long, to barter whatever genius you have for gold, to hear the fulsome and unmeaning flatteries of the ignorant, who are as ready with condemnation as praise—­to be envied and maligned by those less lucky than you are.  Heaven defend me from such a fate!”

She spoke with earnestness and solemnity; then, dropping the curtain before her statue, turned away.  I was admiring the vine-wreathed head of a young Bacchante that stood on a pedestal near me, and was about to ask Zara what subject she had chosen for the large veiled figure at the farthest end of her studio, when we were interrupted by the entrance of the little Greek page whom I had seen on my first visit to the house.  He saluted us both, and addressing himself to Zara, said: 

“Monsieur le Comte desires me to tell you, madame, that Prince Ivan will be present at dinner.”

Zara looked somewhat vexed; but the shade of annoyance flitted away from her fair face like a passing shadow, as she replied quietly: 

“Tell Monsieur le Comte, my brother, that I shall be happy to receive Prince Ivan.”

The page bowed deferentially and departed.  Zara turned round, and I saw the jewel on her breast flashing with a steely glitter like the blade of a sharp sword.

“I do not like Prince Ivan myself,” she said; “but he is a singularly brave and resolute man, and Casimir has some reason for admitting him to our companionship.  Though I greatly doubt if—­” Here a flood of music broke upon our ears like the sound of a distant orchestra.  Zara looked at me and smiled.  “Dinner is ready!” she announced; “but you must not imagine that we keep a band to play us to our table in triumph.  It is simply a musical instrument worked by electricity that imitates the orchestra; both Casimir and I prefer it to a gong!”

And slipping her arm affectionately through mine, she drew me from the studio into the passage, and together we went down the staircase into a large dining-room, rich with oil-paintings and carved oak, where Heliobas awaited us.  Close by him stood another gentleman, who was introduced to me as Prince Ivan Petroffsky.  He was a fine-looking, handsome-featured young man, of about thirty, tall and broad-shouldered, though beside the commanding stature of Heliobas, his figure did not show to so much advantage as it might have done beside a less imposing contrast.  He bowed to me with easy and courteous grace; but his deeply reverential salute to Zara had something in it of that humility which a slave might render to a queen.  She bent her head slightly in answer, and still holding me by the hand, moved to her seat at the bottom of the table, while her brother took the head.  My seat was at the right hand of Heliobas, Prince Ivan’s at the left, so that we directly faced each other.