"What, Fatkoura!" cried a feminine voice from the interior of a pavilion, "are you out at such an hour? Is it because you are a widow that you take so little care of your skin, and let it be destroyed by the sun?"
A blind was half raised, and Iza-Farou thrust out her pretty head, bristling with light tortoise-shell pins.
"Ah!" she said, "the lord of Nagato! You will not pass by my house without honoring me by entering," she added.
"We will come in with pleasure, thanking the fate which led us in this direction," said Fatkoura.
They went up the steps leading to the pavilion, and moved on through the flowers filling the balcony.
Iza-Farou came towards them.
"What had you to tell me?" she said to her friend in a low voice, as she gracefully saluted the Prince.
"I need your help," said Fatkoura; "you know I am in disgrace."
"I know it; shall I sue for your pardon? But can I assure the Queen that you will never again commit the fault which angered her so deeply?" said Iza-Farou, casting a mischievous glance at Nagato.
"I am the only criminal," said the Prince, smiling. "Fatkoura is not responsible for the actions of a madman like me."