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Kondjé-Gul's private life is contrived, as well as everything else, to preserve her against solitude or dulness. She is completing her "civilisation" with industrious zeal. Every morning, from eight o'clock to twelve, is devoted to work; governesses from Madame Montier's come to continue her course of lessons; then from one to two she practises on the piano. Her curious mind, with its mixture of ardent imagination and youthful intelligence, is really producing a wonderful intellectual structure upon its original foundation of native belief and superstitions. I am often quite surprised by hearing her display, on the subject of our social contradictions, an amount of observation and a grasp of view which would do credit to a philosopher.

After two o'clock she dresses, and takes a walk or a ride, or makes calls with her friends, the Montague girls; for in spite of all my excellent intentions, their intimacy has only increased since they were all emancipated from the restraints of school life. Kondjé-Gul being now under her mother's protection, the most regular position she could have in the world, it would have been difficult indeed to find a pretext for breaking it off. Moreover, I had come to the conclusion that, owing to my having been introduced to the commodore's family by my uncle, there could be no danger in these encounters with Kondjé-Gul at their house. It was by Maud and Suzannah that I had been presented to their fair foreign companion, and who would suspect it was not at Madame de Villeneuve's party that I had first spoken to her— Consequently, if any unforeseen circumstance should some day betray our secret, I could at least rest assured that Commodore Montague would never think of accusing me of anything more than a romantic adventure, resulting by a natural train of circumstances from that introduction.

Nothing, as you perceive, could be more correct from the worldly point of view. I am well aware that as a rigid moralist you would not neglect the opportunity, if I gave it you, of lecturing me upon the rashness of my course. Well, for my part, I maintain that our respect for the proprieties consists chiefly in our respect for ourselves. Chance, which led us into the society of the foreign colony, together with Kondjé-Gul's charming manner, have naturally created for her a number of pleasant acquaintances, which I should never perhaps have aimed at obtaining for her. All that was needed to secure her this advantage was that we should both pay to the world this tribute of mystery to which it is entitled. Our society is so mixed that I do not think you would have been scandalised if you had met Kondjé-Gul at the ball at the British Embassy, where she went the other night with her mother, and Commodore Montague. The admiration which she excited as she passed must certainly have disarmed your objections.

Being always about with the Montague girls, Kondjé-Gul soon got invited with them to the balls to which the commodore took his daughters. Having been admitted to two or three aristocratic drawing-rooms, such as that of Princess B—— and Marchioness d'A——, she obtained the entry to all the others. With your knowledge of the infatuations of our fashionable world, you can imagine the extravagant style of admiring gossip with which such a beautiful rising star is greeted wherever she goes. I should add that the young sinner understands it all very well, and is very much flattered by it.

The mystery which surrounds her increases the peculiarity of our situation. Being always chaperoned by her mother, whose foreign type of features creates an imposing impression, Kondjé-Gul is taken for one of those young ladies who are models of filial respect. The style of their house and of their dress, and that refined elegance which stamps them as ladies of distinction, designate them no less indisputably the possessors of a large fortune and of high rank. All this, you will perceive, formed a crowning justification for the success which Kondjé-Gul's remarkable beauty had of itself sufficed to achieve for her. Then of course the fashionable reporters of the official receptions fulfilled their duty by heralding the advent of this brilliant star. They only made the mistake—one of those mistakes so common with journalists—of describing her as a Georgian.

Confident in the security of our mystery, Kondjé-Gul and I find nothing more delightful than the manoeuvres by which we deceive them all. We have invented a code of signs, the meaning of which we keep to ourselves, and which leads to some very amusing by-play between us.

Thus the other evening, at Madame de T——'s, she was sitting by Maud and Suzannah, surrounded by a number of admirers, when the young Duke de Marandal, one of the most ardent of my acknowledged rivals, was lavishing upon her his most seductive attentions. Kondjé was listening to him with a charming smile on her face. Now that evening, I must tell you, she had resolved upon a bit of fun; and knowing that in France unmarried girls are not supposed to wear jewellery, she had fastened on her wrist a heavy gold bracelet as a token of her servitude. So while the young duke was talking, she looked at me, playing carelessly the while with what she calls her "slave's ring." You may guess how we laughed together over it.

CHAPTER XII.

I have to inform you, my dear fellow, that my uncle, who has always been admired so far for his virtuous conduct, and whom I should certainly have been ready to quote as a paragon of husbands, seems just now on the way to forfeiting his character.

Here is what I have to relate:

Two days ago I went to the Theâtre des Variétés to see for the second time the play which is just now the rage. Not having obtained a good place, I left my stall at the end of the first act with the intention of not returning, when, as I passed a rather closely-curtained stage-box, I was quite surprised by seeing Barbassou-Pasha, who had pretended to be going out that evening to an important dinner with some business friends. He was accompanied by a lady whose features were obscured by the darkness.

Being a discreet and respectful nephew, I was about to turn my eyes the other way, when he beckoned me with an imperative gesture to join him in his box. I immediately obeyed this peremptory summons, and, going round by the passage, got the box-opener to usher me in.

"Come in, and sit down," said my uncle, pointing out to me a chair behind him.

Once more I obeyed him, bowing politely to the lady, whose features I could not clearly distinguish. I was hardly seated when I recognised the fair heroine of the fainting fit last week.

Exquisitely attired in a perfectly ravishing costume, Madame Jean Bonaffé replied to my compliments by a charming smile, and a pretty glance from her fine Spanish eyes, which showed me clearly that she was troubled by no remnants of that sudden indisposition which the too unexpected encounter with my uncle had produced.

Our conversation turned upon the play. As she spoke French rather badly (although she understood it very well), she asked my uncle from time to time to tell her the words she was in need of. This he did, pronouncing them with grammatical deliberation, and then leaving us to talk alone, while he surveyed the audience like one superior to such frivolities as feminine smalltalk.

My companion was very gay, and was crunching bonbons all the time.

I, as you may be sure, was gallant and attentive, and I followed her example with the bonbons.

My former aunt, Christina de Portero, is at the happy age of between twenty-eight and thirty. Or, possibly, she is as old as thirty-two. Her figure is slender and supple, with those bold expansions of the hips which, in dancing the fandango, make short work of the skirt. Add to these fascinating details the accurate information with which I have already supplied you on the subject of her exuberant bust, and you can picture her very well for yourself.

She has a fine erect head, clear and singularly expressive features, a warm complexion, a Grecian nose, with quivering nostrils, and a mouth adorned with pearly teeth, with a soft, black, downy growth on her upper lip. She is an Andalusian, overflowing with life and spirits, whose exuberance, however, is tempered by her graceful and truly refined demeanour. One can guess what a fire of passion smoulders within her.

My uncle was in perfection that evening. From time to time he discarded his philosophic calm in order to take a look at us and reply in Spanish to his fair friend's questions. He addressed her as "querida," in that indulgent tone which is peculiar to him, like a pasha who is signifying his approbation.

During the course of our conversation I discovered that things had gone on like this between them since the day after that famous scene at Villebon, whose lively incidents had doubtless conduced to this friendly reconciliation. How had my uncle managed to get round the ferocious native of Toulon— That I could never discover. However this may have been, after the play was over, we went off, all three of us, to the Café Anglais.

We had a capital supper, during which Madame Jean Bonaffé, feeling more at her ease under these intimate circumstances, gave free play to her fascinations. I could soon perceive that in her pleasure at forgetting her regrettable escapades of the past, her grief over her supposed widowhood, and also the short-lived and illegal marriage which she had contracted by mistake, she expected that my uncle would settle her at Paris. She appeared to speak of this happy prospect as of something upon which her mind was set, and it gave rise to a number of beautiful castles in the air.

Barbassou-Pasha, gallant and attentive as ever, listened to all these proposed arrangements for her felicity, in that good-natured, patronizing manner which he always maintains with women, and only departs from in the case of my aunt Eudoxia, who keeps him in check. Nodding his approval of everything she said, he went on eating and drinking, like a practical man who will not neglect the claims of a good supper, and he allowed the fair Andalusian to lavish all her attentions upon him.

About two o'clock in the morning, we took a brougham, drove back my aunt to the Rue de l'Arcade, where she occupies a splendidly furnished suite of rooms, and then returned home.

"What do you think of all that, my dear Louis— Hum!"

Our little circle has been augmented by a very pleasant and genial addition, Mr. Edward Wolsey, a nephew of the commodore's, who may very likely be engaged to Maud.

As I have become quite intimate with Commodore Montague's party, I generally join their group, without the smallest fear of raising a suspicion regarding these encounters. The attention which I pay to Kondjé-Gul and to Suzannah have caused no little envy, for, as you know, Kondjé-Gul pretends she does not dance. This peculiarity, together with her original fascinations with which a certain childish simplicity is mingled, give rise to the most extraordinary conjectures. What is the cause of all this reserve— men ask. Is it modesty, bashfulness, or pride— They know that she can dance splendidly, for she has been seen dancing occasionally at private parties with Maud and Suzannah. They think it must be due to some jealous fiancé, her betrothal to whom is kept secret, and to whom she is devoted.

Lent having interrupted the course of public entertainments, our private parties which usually took place at Teral House, became the gainers by it. Maud and Suzannah felt more free and easy there, and Kondjé-Gul experienced quite a childish delight in holding what she called her "receptions." Our small circle was soon augmented by a dozen select friends, picked carefully from the ranks of their young ball-room acquaintances. There were one or two mothers among them whose presence did not interfere with the harmony of these charming gatherings, and the tone of elegant distinction which prevailed in no respect interfered with their exuberant gaiety.

This break in the giddy circle of fashionable dissipation, afforded quite a new happiness to Kondjé-Gul and me. In the course of her initiation into the refinements of our life, her exotic charms had acquired some new and indescribable embellishments. We spent many a long evening alone together in that delightful privacy which affords the sweetest opportunities for communion between loving hearts, and we grew to feel like a modern Darby and Joan. I was quite proud of my handiwork, and contemplated with joy this pure and ideal being whose nature I had inspired, whose soul and whose heart I had moulded. The cultivation of this young and virgin mind, as I may be permitted to call it, so possessed by its Oriental beliefs, had produced a charming contrast of enthusiasm and calm reason which imparted a most original effect to her frank utterances of new ideas. I was often quite surprised to find in her mingled with her Asiatic superstitions, and transformed as it were by contact with a simpler faith, the substance of my own private sentiments and of my wildest aspirations. One might really think that she had borrowed her thoughts, nay, her very life, as it were, from me, and that her tender emotions had their source in my own heart.

Our happiness seemed so assured, and we had it so completely under our own control, that it would have appeared absurd for us to imagine it to be at the mercy of Fate. Still, in the midst of this tranquillity there sometimes arose in my mind an anxious thought. Light clouds floated across my clear azure sky, and often, as I sat by her side, I began to think, in spite of myself, about the future—about this marriage of which you yourself have reminded me, and from the obligations to which nothing could save me. However great the sacrifice might be, I could not even think of failing to carry out my uncle's wishes in this matter. My heart bound me to this adoptive father who had placed unlimited faith in my loyalty: my whole life was pledged to this chivalrous benefactor who had left all his fortune in my hands, nor could I permit the least suspicion of ingratitude on my part to pass over his mind.

But melancholy as was the recollection of this duty to which I had resigned myself, I must confess that, after all, this impression was but a fugitive one. I no longer attempted to struggle against the temptation to a compromise, by means of which I had determined to reconcile my passion for Kondjé-Gul with my marital duties to Anna Campbell. The retiring nature of the latter would surely permit our union to be treated as one of those arrangements known as mariages de convenance, and my charming romantic connection with Kondjé-Gul would always remain a secret. Moreover, my uncle, should he ever discover this after-match of my oriental life, was certainly not the man to be seriously scandalised at it, directly he assured himself that "the respectabilities" had not been violated.

By-the-bye, I should tell you that was a false alarm I sounded about my uncle! I calumniated him when I believed him to have committed anything so shocking as a double adultery.