“I was looking for the Princesse de Midchekoff's apartments.”
“It is here, sir; but she is indisposed.”
“If you would say that the Abbé D'Esmonde—”
He had got thus far when, lifting his eyes, his glance fell upon her features; and then, as if spell-bound, he stood silently gazing at her. Nina's cheek grew crimson under the stare; but her eyes met his with unshaken firmness.
“If I were to disbelieve all probabilities,” said he, slowly, “I should say that I see an old friend before me. Are you not the daughter of Huertos, the Toridor of Seville?”
“Fra Eustace!” said Nina, stepping back and staring steadily at him.
“No longer so, Lola; I am the Abbé D'Esmonde now,” said he, while a faint flush tinged his pale features.
“And I am Nina, the 'Cameriera,'” replied she, scornfully. “See how unequally fortune has dealt with us!”
D'Esmonde made a sign towards the door, which she at once understood and answered,——
“Yes, in the service of the Princess.”