Prince Zilah -- Volume 1

one as they came on board, happy and smiling at the idea of a breakfast on the deck of a steamer, a novel amusement whic

t this was of yours, Pr

h, entirely

who smiled, and repeated a phrase from Jacquemin's chronicles

a soldier; his eyes were of a deep, clear blue, looking directly at everything; his nose was straight and regular, and his beard and moustache were blond, slightly gray at the corners of the mouth and the chin. His whole appea

the hero in him: his erect figure, the carriage of his head, braving life as it had defied the bullets of the enemy, the strange brilliance of his gaze, the sweet inflections of his voic

d eyes, and a smile of infinite charm, who was half-extended in a low armchair beneath masses of brilliant parti-colored flowers. A stout man, of the Russi

nd brushing with his moustaches he

u happy

e ending in a sigh, as she vaguely

cle, ver

masses of black hair. With a plump, dimpled hand, she held before her myopic eyes a pair of gold-mounted glasses; and she was speaking to a man of rather stern aspect, with a Slav physiognomy, a large head, crowned with a mass of cr

xcessively already, and I intend to enjoy myself still more. Do you know, this scheme of a break

sad, then

he was decidedly pleased with this Marsa Laszlo, against whom he had instinctively felt some prejudice when Zilah spoke to him for the first time of marrying her. To make of a Tzigana-for Marsa was half Tzigana- a Princess Zilah, seemed to Count Varhely a slightly bold resolution. The brave old soldier had never understood much of th

y of any 'arriere-pensee'. How was it possible for him not to be

casting his last leaves to the page of L'Actualite, was quickly descending the gangplank. Zilah scarcely noticed hi

both hands to the newcomer, who advanced, excessively

ete. The English newspapers had announced your

ed, and a moment before (Zilah had not noticed it) he had mad

eason or other, at this moment, he exhibited a certain uneasiness in his face, which ordinarily bore a rather brilliant color, but which was now

only relative he had in the world (his maternal grandmother having been a Countess Menko), his dear Michel, would be present a

low!" he said to him in a tone of a

test glance, the least gesture, of this handsome fellow of twenty-seven or twenty-eight years. Seeing him pass by, one could easily imagine him with his fashionable clothes cast aside, and

ze of the young man had precisely this aggressive look when he discovered, half hidden among the flowers, Marsa seated in the bow of the boat; then, almost instantaneously a singular expression of s

esent you to my fiancee.

oward Marsa. "See," he said to the yo

y inclined her dark head, while her large eyes, under the shadow of their

, with a hand on the shoulder of each of the two friends, who represented to him h

s one to proclaim his happiness, I should tell you how ha

, who had just found Varhely a trifle melancholy, had turn

work. Without me, those two charming savages, so well suited to each other,

much, Baroness. You must tell me the whole story. Think what an article it would make

romance; and, what is more, a romantic romance. A romance which has no resemblanc

ss, I confess, especially when t

little-you know! It is-how shall I express it? It is epic

ousand copies of our p

his ears, and tak