“Well, now, you have all had enough serious talk,” said the Princess Ziska lightly, “so let us adjourn to the drawing-room.  One of my waiting-women shall sing to you by and by; she has a very sweet voice.”

“Is it she who sings that song about the lotus-lily?” asked Gervase, suddenly.

The Princess smiled strangely.

“Yes,—­it is she.”

Dr. Dean chose a cigar from a silver box on the table; Gervase did the same.

“Won’t you smoke, Denzil?” he asked carelessly.

“No, thanks!” Denzil spoke hurriedly and hoarsely.  “I think—­if the Princess will permit me—­I will stay and talk with her in the drawing-room while you two have your smoke together.”

The Princess gave a charming bow of assent to this proposition.  Gervase took the Doctor somewhat roughly by the arm and led him out through the open French window into the grounds beyond, remarking as he went: 

“You will excuse us, Princess?  We leave you in good company!”

She smiled.

“I will excuse you, certainly!  But do not be long!”

And she passed from the dining-room into the small saloon beyond, followed closely by Denzil.

Once out in the grounds, Gervase gave vent to a boisterous fit of wild laughter, so loud and fierce that little Dr. Dean came to an abrupt standstill, and stared at him in something of alarm as well as amazement.

“Are you going mad, Gervase?” he asked.

“Yes!” cried Gervase, “that is just it,—­I am going mad,—­mad for love, or whatever you please to call it!  What do you think I am made of?  Flesh and blood, or cast-iron?  Heavens!  Do you think if all the elements were to combine in a war against me, they should cheat me out of this woman or rob me of her?  No, no!  A thousand times no!  Satisfy yourself, my excellent Doctor, with your musty records of the past,—­prate as you choose of the future,—­but in the immediate, burning, active present my will is law!  And the fool Denzil thinks to thwart me,—­I, who have never been thwarted since I knew the meaning of existence!”

He paused in a kind of breathless agitation, and Dr. Dean grasped his arm firmly.

“Come, come, what is all this excitement for?” he said.  “What are you saying about Denzil?”

Gervase controlled himself with a violent effort and forced a smile.

“He has got his chance,—­I have given it to him!  He is alone with the Princess, and he is asking her to be his wife!”

“Nonsense!” said the Doctor sharply.  “If he does commit such a folly, it will be no use.  The woman is not human!”

“Not human?” echoed Gervase, his black eyes dilating with a sudden amazement—­“What do you mean?”

The little Doctor rubbed his nose impatiently and seemed sorry he had spoken.