Meanwhile, Undine and Mephistopheles had seated themselves in the deep recess of one of the alcoves.
"May I get you an ice, madam?" asked the Mephistopheles in a queer, strained voice.
Undine turned her face towards him, and her eyes flashed curiously through the mask.
"You may," she replied, also disguising her voice, "if you will tell me who you are."
"That I dare not," was the guarded reply. "My name is never mentioned in ears polite, you know."
Undine smiled.
"Since you will not tell me your name, perhaps you can tell me mine without the asking."
"I can, madam. You are--Lady Merivale, who is so fond of the river."
Undine started, her face turning suddenly pale.
"I--what do you mean? Who are you?" she asked, as she peered at him with straining eyes, seeking to pierce the clever disguise.