long-fringed eyelids the approach of her now scarcely-to-be
controlled lover. He came towards her with a certain impetuosity
of movement which was so far removed from ordinary conventionality
as to be wholly admirable from the purely picturesque point of
view, despite the fact that it expressed more passion and
impatience than were in keeping with nineteenth-century customs
and manners. He had almost reached her side before he became aware
that there were two other women in the room besides the Princess,-
-silent, veiled figures that sat, or rather crouched, on the
floor, holding quaintly carved and inlaid musical instruments of
some antique date in their hands, the only sign of life about them
being their large, dark, glistening almond-shaped eyes, which were
every now and then raised and fixed on Gervase with an intense and
searching look of inquiry. Strangely embarrassed by their glances,
he addressed the Princess in a low tone:

"Will you not send away your women?"

She smiled.

"Yes, presently; if you wish it, I will. But you must hear some
music first. Sit down there," and she pointed with her small
jewelled hand to a low chair near her own. "My lutist shall sing
you something,--in English, of course!--for all the world is being
Anglicized by degrees, and there will soon be no separate nations
left. Something, too, of romantic southern passion is being
gradually grafted on to English sentiment, so that English songs
are not so stupid as they were once. I translated some stanzas
from one of the old Egyptian poets into English the other day,
perhaps you will like them. Myrmentis, sing us the 'Song of