“Who’s that?” he added.
Ferez turned; the gorgeous lady snubbed him, but bowed to d’Eblis.
“The Archduchess Zilka,” he said, not a whit abashed. “She is a ver’ great frien’ of mine.”
“Can’t you present me?” enquired Gerhardt, restlessly; “—or you, d’Eblis—can’t you ask permission?”
The Count d’Eblis nodded inattentively, then turned his heavy and rather vulgar face to Ferez, plainly interested in the “histoire” of the girl, Nihla.
“What were you going to say about that dancer?” he demanded.
Ferez pretended to forget, then, apparently recollecting:
“Ah! Apropos of Nihla? It is a ver’ piquant storee—the storee of Nihla Quellen. Zat is not ’er name. No! Her name is Dunois—Thessalie Dunois.”
“French,” nodded d’Eblis.
“Alsatian,” replied Ferez slyly. “Her fathaire was captain—Achille Dunois?—you know——?”