He sprang up before she could speak a word in answer, and seizing
his canvas again, exclaimed gayly:

"Now for the hues of morning and evening combined, to paint the
radiance of this wicked soul of love that so enthralls me! First,
the raven-black of midnight for the hair,--the lustre of the
coldest, brightest stars for eyes,--the blush-rose of early dawn
for lips and cheeks. Ah! How shall I make a real beginning of this
marvel?"

"It will be difficult, I fear," said Ziska slowly, with a faint,
cold smile; "and still more difficult, perchance, will be the
end!"




CHAPTER VIII.


The table d'hote at the Gezireh Palace Hotel had already begun
when Gervase entered the dining-room and sat down near Lady
Fulkeward and Dr. Dean.

"You have missed the soup," said her ladyship, looking up at him
with a sweet smile. "All you artists are alike,--you have no idea
whatever of time. And how have you succeeded with that charming
mysterious person, the Princess Ziska?"