“I will, then, surprise her!” said Orloff. “Let her anticipate my coming, but do not promise it. It begins to grow dark. Where is she, evenings?”
“Always in the garden. There she sighs and dreams of you!”
“Persuade her to go into the house, and let it be well lighted up! I would appear to her in the full splendor of the lights! Ha, you ragamuffins, you hounds, bring me my oriental costume, the richest, handsomest; hasten, or I will throttle you!”
And Count Orloff hurried into his toilet-chamber, to the trembling slaves who there awaited him.
With a sly smile Joseph Ribas returned to the villa. As he had previously said, he found Natalie dreaming in the garden, the guitar upon her arm.
“You ought to go into the house this evening,” said he, “the air is damp and cold, and may injure you.”
“Of what consequence would that be?” she sadly responded. “Who would ask whether I was ill nor not? Who would weep for my death?”
“He!”
“Oh, he!” sighed she. “He hates all women!”
“Excepting you!” whispered Ribas. “Princess, go into the house! Take care of your precious life. It is not I who beg it of you!”