"But I am not acquainted with the young lady's repertoire," returned the other.
"Barbarian! not to know Jéza's masterpieces after living for half a year in a civilised country. Well, I'll name the best ones to you. 'La Reine Amalasunthe;' 'La Diablesse;' 'Étoile qui File;' 'La Bayadère;' 'La Nymphe Triomphante;' 'Diane qui Chasse Actæon;' 'Mazeppa'—"
"No, that is not among them!" cried the girl, interrupting the speaker.
"Ödön, don't let her fool you," said Leonin; "choose Ma—"
But he was stopped by Jéza, who had sprung from her seat and was holding her hand over his mouth. He struggled to free himself, but meanwhile Ödön ended the contest by making his choice.
"Mazeppa!" he called, and Jéza turned her back to them both in a pet and leaned against the wall. Leonin, however, gained his point.
"You have always refused me that," said he; "but I told you the time would come when you would have to yield."
The girl threw a look at Ödön. "Very well, then; it shall be done." And therewith she disappeared.
Ödön now turned his attention for the first time to the arena, a vaulted space of sixty yards in diameter, half enclosed by a semicircle of grated boxes. No spectators were to be seen, but the cigar-smoke that, made its way through the gratings betrayed their presence. The side of the arena unenclosed by boxes was draped with hangings on which were depicted various mythological scenes, while an occasional door broke up the wall-space and relieved the monotony.
For a few minutes after Jéza's exit from Leonin's box the arena was quite empty, save that two Moorish girls in Turkish costume were busy smoothing the sand,—a sign that an equestrian act was to follow.