appearance of a most beautiful and seductive human body, she has
the soul of a fiend. Now, do you understand me?"

"It would take Oedipus himself all his time to do that,"--said
Gervase, forcing a laugh which had no mirth in it, for he was
conscious of a vaguely unpleasant sensation--a chill, as of some
dark presentiment, which oppressed his mind. "When you know I do
not believe in the soul, why do you talk to me about it? The soul
of a fiend,--the soul of an angel,--what are they? Mere empty
terms to me, meaning nothing. I think I agree with you though, in
one or two points concerning the Princess; par exemple, I do not
look upon her as one of those delicately embodied purities of
womanhood before whom we men instinctively bend in reverence, but
whom, at the same time, we generally avoid, ashamed of our
vileness. No; she is certainly not one of the

"'Maiden roses left to die
Because they climb so near the sky,
That not the boldest passer-by
Can pluck them from their vantage high.'

And whether it is best to be a solitary 'maiden-rose' or a
Princess Ziska, who shall say? And human or inhuman, whatever
composition she is made of, you may make yourself positively
certain that Denzil Murray is just now doing his best to persuade
her to be a Highland chatelaine in the future. Heavens, what a
strange fate it will be for la belle Egyptienne!"

"Oh, you think she IS Egyptian then?" queried Dr. Dean, with an
air of lively curiosity.