Since the singing of the Bohemian, Reine’s imagination, excited beyond degree, had indulged in a thousand dreams concerning the adventurous life of the young emir, as the vagabond had named him.
Either by design or chance, the singer had left his guzla in Reine’s apartment, after the departure of Honorât de Berrol.
The young girl, curious to see the face of the unknown again, took the guitar and opened the medallion, and, to her great surprise, the portrait, insecurely fastened, came off in her hands.
Dame Dulceline entered. Reine blushed, closed the medallion and hid the portrait in her bosom, intending to restore it to its place. Evening came, and Stephanette, without informing her mistress, returned the guitar to the Bohemian. The lid of the medallion was fastened, and neither the singer nor the servant discovered the absence of the picture.
The next day Reine sent for the Bohemian in order to return the portrait to him. He had disappeared, the flight of the pigeon demanding his attention.
Reine had the courage to break the crystal vase, and to burn the miniature on vellum, but she had not the courage to destroy the portrait or the rosary that she found in her oratory.
In spite of her struggles, in spite of her prayers, in spite of her resolve to forget the events of the day in the rocks of Ollioules, the memory of the unknown took possession of her heart more and more.
The songs of the Bohemian on the young emir, whom he called Erebus, had profoundly moved her feelings.
Those contrasts of courage and kindness, of power and pity, recalled to her mind the singular combination of audacity and timidity which had impressed her in the scene which transpired in the gorges of Ollioules.
She counted on the restitution of the portrait as the first step to another conversation with the Singer about the emir.